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. 



SINGERS AND SONGS 



OF 



THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



' God sent his singers upon Earth 
With songs of sadness and of mirth, 
That they might touch the hearts of me?i, 
And bring them back to heaven again" 

Longfellow. 



" A good hymn is a more valuable contribution to Chris- 
tian Literature than vast tomes of theology j for it will sing 
to the ages after the to?nes are mouldering on the shelves.' 1 '' 

Sears. 



Singers and Songs 



OF THE 



3ltfoerai jfattt); 

BEING SELECTIONS OF HYMNS AND OTHER 

SACRED POEMS OF THE LIBERAL 

CHURCH IN AMERICA, 



WITH 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF THE WRITERS, AND WITH 
HISTORICAL AND ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES. 



BY 



ALFRED P. PUTNAM. 







BOSTON: 
ROBERTS BROTHERS. 

1875. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by 

ALFRED P. PUTNAM, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



Cambridge : 
Press of John Wilsojt and Son, 



PREFACE. 



PHE present volume had its origin in a course of ten 
lectures on the History of Sacred Song in Hebrew 
and Christian times, which I gave to my own people of 
the Church of the Saviour, in Brooklyn, during the winter 
of 1 872-1 873, and repeated to the students of the Theo- 
logical School at Meadville, Penn., in the following June. 
The last of the series treated particularly of Unitarian 
Hymnology, and led directly to the preparation of this 
book. My studies at that time only deepened the con- 
viction, which very many others must have shared with 
me, that scattered through a wide range of literature 
were a great number of fine hymns, and brief religious 
poems beside, which, having had their rise in the Liberal 
Communion, and appearing to be just expressions of the 
Liberal Faith, might accomplish a more extended ser- 
vice by being brought together in a collected form, and 
thus made more accessible to the general reader. In 
pursuance of this plan, I have drawn the offerings which 
fill these pages, not alone from church hymn-books, pop- 
ular compilations of poetry, and recently published works 
of individual authors, but from magazines and newspapers 
of various dates in the present century ; from annuals 
and pamphlets, some of which were printed many years 
ago ; from volumes which have had their day, and are 
not now easily to be obtained ; from precious manuscripts 



VI 



PREFACE. 



whose contents now for the first time see the light ; and 
from other repositories where not a few of the treasures 
which are here gathered have long lain buried, and were 
in more or less danger of remaining quite neglected. 

From the circumstance that a large proportion of these 
hymns and poems have been recovered from the places 
where they have so long been concealed from view, and 
from the fact that a very considerable number which 
have never been given to the public before have been 
sent as special contributions to these pages by many of 
the most eminent authors whose names are presented 
here, it will be seen how fresh, as well as rare, an element 
pervades the volume. This feature of the book is ren- 
dered perhaps still more interesting by the further con- 
sideration that many of the men and women in our roll 
of singers are almost exclusively known as prose-writers, 
while yet they have from time to time produced verses 
which well deserve to be collected and more widely cir- 
culated. Nor, while there appear in this procession of 
bards those who have greatly distinguished themselves, 
not only as poets, but also as essayists, critics, historians, 
statesmen, preachers, reformers, and philanthropists, have 
I by any means forgotten others of humbler rank, who 
have never aspired to literary fame or prominent station, 
but who, out of their rural or cloistered retreats, or out 
of their daily business toil or domestic care, have also 
sung the sweet and acceptable songs of our Zion. It is 
well worthy of note how the divine Spirit has touched 
and tuned to praise the hearts of so many and such 
various classes of persons, and how they here blend their 
voices together in fine accord. 

While many valuable books of sermons, essays, and 
treatises have been published, designed to set forth the 
theological views and inculcate the religious sentiments 
of what is usually denominated the Liberal Church, the 



PREFACE. vii 

object of this volume is to show how the vital faith of 
that communion has voiced itself also in song and poetry, 
and to provide a fresh ministry of spiritual strength and 
comfort to those who may be helped by the reasonable 
and cheerful thoughts and truths which it is believed are 
here unfolded. For it is especially in these richer and 
loftier strains of devotion, and not so much in homiletic 
discourse or controversial argument, that the very heart 
of any body of believers finds its best utterance. Yet 
our purpose must needs be to unify, not to distract and 
divide, since it is just here that all sects and commun- 
ions discover most fully their common bond, their essen- 
tial oneness. It has well been said that there is but little 
heresy in hymns. Doubts and dogmas alike have no 
proper function to fulfil in a service like this. It is only 
the trust and love, the joy and peace, the hopes and aspi- 
rations, of the soul, which are deeper than our speculative 
opinions and ecclesiastical preferences, and which are the 
profoundest experiences of all who truly love God and 
man, — it is these alone that sing themselves into the 
immortal chants and anthems of history. The hymns of 
this Collection, like the hymns of the ages, may be more 
or less colored by the peculiar doctrines or associations 
of those who composed them ; but the same inspiring life 
breathes in them all. It is gratifying to observe that this 
truth is finding a more and more generous recognition in 
the freer and still freer use, by each of the sects, of the 
best hymns of all communions, Orthodox and Liberal. 
Only the whole church can worthily fulfil to the soul the 
great ministry of song. 

I would use the word Liberal in no offensive sense. 
Most of the authors who appear in our list may be said to 
belong to the Unitarian denomination, but not .all. Some 
of them are simply Theists, and others verge very near 
the Evangelical Faith ; while both classes, perhaps, have 



Vlll 



PREFACE. 



steadily refused to accept any sectarian name or to be 
identified with any sectarian organization. Yet, as all 
are believed to hold substantially to the doctrine of the 
Divine Unity, and have been associated with each other 
in many ways as somehow members of a common house- 
hold, feeling or finding more sympathy there than else- 
where, it was plainly beyond my legitimate province, in a 
book like this, to seek to draw any dividing-line ; while, 
at the same time, it was my duty to employ a term that 
might be large enough to cover them all and give um- 
brage to none. It is not intended by any such use of 
the word to intimate that there are not other religious 
communions to which it is applicable as well as to this. 

To impart additional interest to the volume, and to 
meet a very natural desire on the part of many persons 
to know more about those who write our hymns, I have ac- 
companied the selections with brief biographical sketches, 
giving a few leading dates or facts of the history of the 
authors, and enumerating their principal contributions 
to literature and not a few of their conspicuous labors 
in other important departments of service, but making 
special note of whatever they may have done in the 
sphere which particularly concerns us here. With refer- 
ence to men who are so well and widely known as Adams, 
Parker, Bryant, and Longfellow, it was manifestly un- 
necessary for me to enter largely into detail. In the case 
of many others who are less renowned, but who are yet 
of no little eminence, I have made my notices somewhat 
more extended. There are others still whose names 
scarcely appear in cyclopaedias of literature, biograph- 
ical dictionaries, or even church hymn-books, but who, in 
consideration of their character, lives, and verses, are 
richly entitled to all the glad and grateful remembrance 
which is accorded them in these pages. In writing these 
sketches, I have been aided to a considerable extent by 



PREFACE. IX 

various books, to which I refer in my list of acknowl- 
edgments ; but I have drawn much more largely from 
numerous volumes of memoirs, published funeral-dis- 
courses, newspaper-obituaries, and from oral or written 
accounts, which, in answer to my inquiries, I have re- 
ceived from friends, who by reason of their acquaintance 
with the living and the dead were competent to give me 
the facts I needed. Assisted in whatever way, I have 
sought to bring these notices down to the latest time, 
and to make them, in their revised and condensed form, 
as complete as my general plan would allow. 

It has not been my aim to canvass the merit of these 
authors as writers either of prose or poetry, or to enter 
into any discriminating analysis or review of their lite- 
rary productions. I have only, at most, indulged here 
and there in very brief and quite general comments in 
praise of either one or the other, frequently perhaps 
neglecting to render a like tribute where also it was 
justly due. A different course might have made the 
sketches too long, and I have been very well content to 
let these songs of the Liberal Faith tell their own story. 
It does not seem to me too much to say, that, in purity 
of thought, in elevation of sentiment, in refinement of ex- 
pression, and in classic beauty and finish of style, these 
hymnists, as a whole, may well challenge comparison 
with those of any other communion. They reveal, as 
a class, a strong faith and tender trust in God as the 
Father ; a fine appreciation and love of all that is grand 
and beautiful in Nature ; a deep conviction that a di- 
vine hand is in all things, and is guiding all things on to 
a glorious issue and end ; a profound and earnest rever- 
ence for Christ, as the Way, the Truth, and the Life, 
and a heartfelt recognition of his Cross as the emblem 
and pledge of victory; a genuine "enthusiasm for hu- 
manity " and a sense of the supreme value of a good 



X PREFACE. 

life, and a large and genial sympathy and fellowship 
with all true and faithful souls in every sect or com- 
munion, — which give to their lyrics a power, a fervor, 
and a joy, which only too frequently, I fear, have been 
denied them. 

Strewn through the volume are many brief notes of an 
historical or illustrative character, the object of which is 
to make known the origin of many of these hymns or 
poems, the occasions for which they were composed, the 
publications in which they originally appeared, the various 
changes or fortunes which they have undergone, and 
other facts, incidents, or circumstances connected with 
them. These might easily have been greatly multiplied, 
but I have been restrained by the fear of making them 
too prominent a feature of the book. Such as they are, 
it is thought that they will help to revive many pleasant 
and holy memories, and give an increased interest to the 
metrical pieces to which they relate. Not a few of these 
songs will be seen to have been written for festivals, or 
celebrations, or anniversaries, not strictly of a religious 
character. Yet they were deemed suitable to my gen- 
eral purpose or plan, since they are fraught with valuable 
lessons, and are fitted to exert a good influence. Indeed, 
I have endeavored to give variety to the contents of 
the volume by introducing numerous productions of 
this kind, while yet the great proportion of those which 
I include are of a more devout or spiritual nature ; and 
for the same reason I admit a large number of sacred 
poems, which, owing to their peculiar form or metre, may 
not be set to music or sung in the church, while yet the 
hymn-element, properly considered, is predominant. 

It will be noticed that my list of authors is confined 
to American writers. I had intended at first to include 
many hymnists, also of the Liberal Faith, in England 
and other European countries. I soon found, however, 



PREFACE. xi 

that the field was too large, and the difficulties of carry- 
ing out my plan with reference to lands so remote were 
too great. I was therefore glad to enter into an arrange- 
ment with some friends abroad, who were to collect in 
a similar way the best songs of this communion which 
have had their origin in the Old World, while I was to 
gather those which have had their birth in the New. How 
far the enterprise of my English co-laborers has made 
progress I am not at present informed, but I trust the 
result of their researches will appear at no distant day. 
I have found the harvest even here at home more abun- 
dant than I could well bind into a single sheaf. No doubt 
there are many other cherished and honored names, 
and numerous other favorite and beautiful hymns, which 
belong to such a compilation as this, and which readers 
may be sorry not to discover here. I hope to give place 
to these in another series, which is in course of prepa- 
ration from accumulated stores that are already in my 
hands, or from materials which I am engaged in collect- 
ing. It is thought that the two volumes — which, 
however similar, will yet be in a certain sense inde- 
pendent of each other — will not unacceptably embody 
or represent the finest and richest song-literature of 
the American Liberal Church. 

The authors embraced within the present volume are 
arranged generally in chronological order. The only 
exceptions to this rule were in some cases quite un- 
avoidable, and in others are due to my judgment that it 
would be best to group here and there various members 
of the same family together. In the first part of the 
book will be found an Index of these writers, with the 
titles or subjects of their songs, given in the order in 
which they occur in the body of the work. In the latter 
part is an Alphabetical Index of the writers, and also an 
Index of the first lines of the hymns and poems. The 



Xll PREFACE. 

better to complete the Index of subjects, I have given to 
a few pieces, whose titles were wanting, such designa- 
tions as seemed to me proper. In other instances, where 
the authors themselves had not thus indicated the themes 
of their productions, I have frequently accepted such 
titles as I have found supplied in one or another of 
the Church Collections. In only three or four cases 
have I ventured to make any change in those which 
were thus furnished by writers or compilers. Scarcely 
more numerous have been the slight verbal alterations 
which I have made in the more important text of the 
hymns and poems themselves. These have been chiefly 
attempted where there had evidently been a slip of the 
pen, — the original thought remaining, I need scarcely 
add, unvaried by any act of mine. From first to last, 
no pains have been spared to present these gathered 
offerings in their properly authorized form. 

I desire to express my grateful acknowledgments to 
all who have so kindly aided me in my work : to the 
numerous authors who have so freely permitted me to 
make use of their songs and verses, or who have written 
or spoken to me words of hearty encouragement and 
helpful suggestion ; to my venerable and excellent friend 
and former parishioner, Lewis G. Pray, Esq., of Boston 
Highlands, for the interesting letters which I have at 
various times received from him in relation to the 
earlier Unitarian Hymnology in this country ; to Rev. 
F. A. Whitney, of Boston (Brighton District), whose 
valuable accumulations of books, pamphlets, and other 
literary stores, illustrative of the history of our Liberal 
Churches, were generously opened to my examination, 
and were of much service to me ; to the Librarians of 
Harvard College, the Essex Institute, Salem, and the 
Long Island Historical Society and the Mercantile 
Library Association, Brooklyn, N.Y., for the many 



PREFACE. xiii 

polite favors which they have rendered to me in my 
investigations ; to Messrs. J. R. Osgood & Co., for their 
permission to make selections from their published 
works of Longfellow and Holmes, and from the Life of 
Theodore Parker by Mr. Frothingham ; to Messrs. D. 
Appleton & Co., for whatever I have gleaned from their 
editions of Bryant's poems, and from their " American 
Cyclopaedia ; " to various authors and publishers for 
the assistance I have gained in writing some of my 
biographical sketches from Underwood's " Hand-Book 
of English Literature," Duyckinck's " Cyclopaedia of 
American Literature," Allibone's " Critical Dictionary 
of English Literature," Drake's " Dictionary of Amer- 
ican Biography," and Griswold's " Poets and Poetry of 
America ; " and to those who have compiled the various 
Collections of Hymns and edited the many papers and 
magazines from which I have so often copied, for the 
aid that has come to me through their literary labors. 

I dare not venture the thought, that, in a book which 
deals so largely with facts or dates, with scattered or 
fugitive productions, and with known and unknown au- 
thors, where so much care and judgment were constantly 
called into requisition, I have not made mistakes. I 
have done what I could to avoid them, and can only 
hope they will be found to be few. I may add, that, 
for any labor of mine which was necessary to prepare 
this volume for the press, I have realized a sufficient 
reward in a wider acquaintance with these pure and 
gifted bards of the Liberal Faith, and with the precious 
contributions which they have made to the great store 
of Sacred Song. 

ALFRED P. PUTNAM. 

Brooklyn, N.Y., Nov. 3, 1874. 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND SUBJECTS. 



James Freeman . . . 
Hymn of the Seasons 



John Davis .... 
The Pilgrim Fathers . 
Forefathers' Day . . 

Samuel Davis . . . 
Pilgrim Ode .... 

William T. Davis 
Our Fathers' God . . 

John Quincy Adams . 
Psalm Nineteenth 
Psalm One Hundred 
Thirty-ninth . . . 
The Death of Children 
The Hour-Glass . . 



Samuel Willard . . 
For a Birthday . . . 
For the Peace of the Church 
Against Unreasonable Fears 
The Prayer of Penitence 
Evening Hymn .... 
The Sure Promises of God 
Old Age 



and 



PAGE 

i 



James Fltnt 

God with the True Worship 

per Everywhere . . 

The Beatitudes . . . 

Evening Hymn . . . 

Remembrance of our Fath 

ers 



PAGE 

Celebration of American In- 
dependence 25 

Ordination Hymn for a New 

Society 26 

Harmony Grove Cemetery . 27 

John Pierpont 28 

Morning Hymn for a Child 30 

Evening Hymn for a Child 31 

Works of Man 31 

W T orks of God 32 

Ordination Hymn .... 33 

Universal Worship ... 33 

The Pilgrim Fathers ... 34 
The Stone Church at 

Quincy 36 

Settlement of Boston . . 37 

George Washington ... 38 

Temperance Hymn ... 39 

Charles Follen 41 

My Father, Mother, Broth- 
ers, Sisters 41 

Hymn of the Last Supper . 42 

Remembrance of Christ . 43 

He is not there .... 43 
Consecration at Greenwood 

Cemetery 44 

" E Pluribus Unum " . . 45 

Andrews Norton .... 46 

Trust and Submission . . 47 
The Death of a Young 

Friend 48 

Written after a Summer 

Shower 49 

The Parting 50 



xvi INDEX OF AUTHORS AND SUBJECTS. 



Fortitude 

Funeral Hymn .... 
On the Close of the Year 
Hymn for the Dedication of 
a Church 



Eliza Lee Follen . . . 
Sabbath Day .... 
Sunset on the Hills . . 
" To whom shall we go ?" 
Hymn of Praise . . . 
We never part from Thee 

On Prayer 

The Twenty-Ninth Psalm 
Goodness of God . . . 
Thy Will be done . . 

Sarah W. Livermore . 
The Coming of Christ . 
The Western Churches 
Hymn for Ordination 
For the Church at Wilton 

Charles Sprague . . . 
Dedication Hymn . . . 
Ordination Hymn . . 
Installation Hymn . . 
Children's Hymn . . . 
Death of an Infant . . 
Mount Auburn . . . 
The Brothers .... 
The Winged Worshippers 



Samuel Gilman .... 
Hymn for Baptism . . 
Communion Hymns 
Hymn for an Ordination 

Caroline Gilman . . . 
Sabbath Day . . . 

God our Father . . . 
Hymn for a Child . . . 
The Voice from the Cloud 
The Earth is Beautiful . 



Lewis G. Pray . . . 
For a Rural Excursion 
Monody 



PAGE 

5i 
5 2 

5 2 

54 

55 
55 
56 
57 
57 
58 
58 
59 
60 
60 

61 
62 
62 
63 
64 

64 

65 
66 

67 
68 
69 
69 
70 
7i 

72 

73 

74,7 5 
75 

76 
78 
78 
79 
80 
81 

81 
82 
83 



PAGB 

Ordination Hymn .... 84 

Silent Work 85 

Penitence 86 

The Cross of Christ . . . 87 



Nathaniel L. Frothingham 
Ordination of a Minister 
Christ's Manifestation . 

The Church 

Hymn of Dedication . . 
Communion Hymn . . 

Strength 

Homeward from Foreign 

Lands 

"Arise and eat "... 
Cast thy Bread upon the 

Waters 

Federal Street Meeting 

House 

Dedication Hymn . . . 

A Lament 

Hymn for the Blind . . 
Prayer and the Dead 



Henry Ware, Jr. . . 
Resurrection of Christ 
The Truth as it is in Jesus 
On Opening our Organ . 
Around the Throne . . 
Seasons of Prayer . 
Hymn for Ordination 
The God of our Fathers 
Family Meeting . . . 
Hymn in Sickness . . 
Hymn for Dedication . 
The Progress of Freedom 

William Cullen Bryant, 

"The Lord giveth wis 
dom" 

" Thy word is truth " . 

" His tender mercies are 
over all his works " , 

"Blessed are they that 
mourn " ..... 

"A broken and a contrite 



87 
88 
89 
90 

9i 
92 
92 

94 
95 

97 

98 

99 

100 

101 

102 

103 

!°5 

105 

106 

107 
108 

no 
III 
III 

112 

112 

"3 

114 

"5 
116 

117 

117 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND SUBJECTS. xvn 



heart, O God ! thou wilt 

not despise " . . . . 
" How amiable are thy 

tabernacles " ... 
■"I will send them proph 

ets and apostles " . . 
" Thou, God, seest me " 
The Mother's Hymn . . 
Communion Hymn . . 
" Thou hast put all things 

under his feet " . . . 

The Past 

The Future Life . . . 
The Conqueror's Grave . 
The Death of Lincoln . 
" Receive thy sight " . . 
Mutual Kindness . . . 

Samuel B. Sumner . . 

Penitence 

" Only believe " . . . 
The Family Altar . . . 
" Lovest thou me?" . . 
Spring Time .... 
Dedication Hymn . . . 
The Good Father . . . 



W. B. O. Peabody 
The Creator . . 
Sin 

What Jesus Christ has 
done for us ... . 

The Future State of Happi 
ness 

Spring 



Summer , 
Autumn . 
Winter . 
The Thunder Storm . 

Sunrise 

The Autumn Evening 
The Rising Moon . . 
Prayer before Rising . 
Prayer before Sleeping 
Hymn of Nature . . 
Who is thy Neighbor ? 



118 

119 

120 
120 
121 
122 



124 

125 
127 
129 
129 
130 

130 

131 
133 
134 
134 
135 

137 

T 37 
139 
r 39 

140 

141 
142 
142 

143 
144 

145 
145 
146 

147 
148 
149 
149 
151 



Oliver W. B. Peabouy . 
Oh ! who that has gazed 
in the stillness of even 



Francis Brown . . . 
Rural Celebration . . 
Hymn for Ordination 

Louisa Jane Hall 



Grow not Old . . . 
The Lord's Prayer 
True Prayer .... 
Service in the Hereafter 



William Henry Furness 
The Soul panting after God 
Morning 



Penitential . . . 
The Soul .... 
" She is not dead, but 

sleepeth" 

A Prayer for Divine Aid 
The Widow of Nain . . 
The Want within . . . 
Jesus our Leader . . . 
Communion Hymns . . 1 
The Father's Presence . 
"He that dwelleth in love 

dwelleth in God " 



Thomas Gray, Jr. . . . 
Morning Hymn . . . 
Sunday School Anniversary 
Prayer for a Blessing . . 
An Opening Hymn for the 

Sunday School . . . 
Ordination Hymn . . . 
Good-Night 



William Newell . . . 
Consecration of Cambridge 

Cemetery 

Voices from the Past 

The Christian Preacher and 

Teacher 



63, 



PAGE 
152 

152 

J 53 

i54 
i54 

i55 
156 

i57 
J 57 
158 
158 

159 
160 
161 
162 
163 
164 

165 
166 
166 
167 
168 
169 
170 

170 

171 

172 
172 
173 

174 
175 
176 

177 

178 
179 

180 



xvin INDEX OF AUTHORS AND SUBJECTS. 



Light on the Cloud . 
Jared Sparks .... 
Festival Hymn .... 
Communion Hymn . . 
Altiora petamus, Christo 

Duce 

A New Year's Hymn . 
" Serve God and be cheer 

ful" 

Ordination Hymn . . 



A. R. St. John . . . 
Dedication Hymn . . . 
Installation Hymn . . 
The Chapel at Bridgeport 

Conn 

The Mother 



William Parsons Lunt 
Our Forefathers . . . 
The Christmas Tree . . 
The Higher Birth . . . 
"Lux ecce surgit aurea" 
The Sent of the Father . 
Installation Hymn . . 
Hymn for a Sunday School 
The Chanting Cherubs . 
Creation's Prayer . . . 

Frederic Henry Hedge 
An Invocation .... 
Beneath Thine Hammer 
The Crucifixion . . . 
Christmas Hymn . . . 
Hymn for Ordination 
The Morning Star . . . 
Song of the Angels . . 
Easter Hymn .... 
Luther's Hymn .... 
Veni, Sancte Spiritus 

Henry Wadsworth Long 
fellow 

Hymn to the Night . . 

A Psalm of Life . . . 

The Reaper and the Flow 
ers 



PAGE 

181 

182 

183 

184 

185 

186 

187 

188 
189 

190 

191 

192 

193 
194 

196 

197 

198 

199 

200 
201 

202 

203 
203 

205 

206 

207 

208 

209 
210 

211 
212 
213 
214 
2l6 



217 
218 
219 

220 



PAGE 

Footsteps of Angels . .' . 221 

The Rainy Day 222 

God's-Acre 222 

The Arsenal at Springfield 223 

Resignation 224 

Suspiria 225 

Hymn for my Brother's Or- 
dination 226 

The Ladder of St. Augustine 226 

The Two Angels .... 228 

Children 228 

A Day of Sunshine . . . 229 

Weariness 230 

Palingenesis 231 

Sarah Elizabeth Miles . 232 

Looking unto Jesus . . . 232 

Heaven 233 

In Affliction 234 

The Hour of Darkness . . 235 

" Thou, God, seest me " . 236 

O Lord, deliver .... 237 

Stephen Greenleaf Bul- 

finch 238 

Birth of John the Baptist . 240 

Birth of Jesus 240 

Conversation with Nicode- 

mus 241 

The Sabbath Day .... 242 
Jesus walks on the Sea . . 243 
The Testimony of Miracles 244 
The Barren Fig-Tree . . . 245 
Thoughts on the Saviour . 245 
Children brought to Christ 246 
The Use of Present Oppor- 
tunities 246 

Institution of the Lord's 

Supper 247 

Meditation 248 

The Communion of Saints . 249 
Akabah. To the Memory of 

Rev. W. P. Lunt, D.D. . 250 

Lines to Rev. Dr. Newell . 252 

Oliver Wendell Holmes . 252 

A Birthday Tribute. J.F. C. 254 

The Chambered Nautilus . 255 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND SUBJECTS. xix 



PAGE 

The Promise 256 

Hymn- of Trust. . . . .257 

A Sun-Day Hymn ... 257 

The Last Look 258 

International Ode .... 259 

Army Hymn 260 

Mary Whit well Hale . . 261 

Home 263 

Universal Adoration . . . 264 

God nigh to the Penitent . 264 
" Life has no charm for 

me" 265 

Communion Hymn . . . 266 

Aspiration 267 

Sunday School Festival, 

1837 267 

Evening Hymn 268 

Consecration of Mt. Pleas- 
ant Cemetery, Taunton . 269 
The Peace of God .... 270 
" Upon whom doth not his 

light arise" 271 

Invocation 272 

The True Source of Strength 273 
'All thy works shall praise 

thee " 274 

Lines written after an Or- 
dination 274 

The Early Dead .... 275 

The Returning Wanderer . 276 

The Son of God .... 277 

The Voice of the Flowers . 279 

Sabbath Hymn 280 

A Mother's Counsel ... 281 

Christmas 281 

Temperance Anniversary . 282 



James Freeman Clarke 
Hymn and Prayer . 
Jacob's Well . . 
The Violet . . . 
The Prodigal . . 
Baptism of a Child 
Baptism of Children 
Feast of the Reformation 



283 
285 
286 
287 
288 
288 
289 



Ordaining a Western Mis- 
sionary .... 

Cana 

In Spirit and Truth 

New Heavens and New Earth 

Closing Aspiration 

Theodore Parker . . 

Dedication Hymn . . 

Evening 

Jesus 

The Almighty Love . 

A Prayer 

The Spirit of Jesus . 
The Way, the Truth, 

Life 

The Saviour's Gospel 
The Higher Good . . 
The Father's Hand . 
Thankfulness and Trust 
The Good Shepherd . 



the 



Chandler Robbins . . . 

" Speak, Lord, for thy ser 
vant heareth "... 

Evening Hymn. Close of 
Worship 



Edmund Hamilton Sears 
Christmas Song . . . 
Peace on Earth .... 
" Feed my lambs " . . 
Above the Storms . . . 

Abiel Abbot Livermore . 
The Love of the Brethren 
To a Snow-flake . . . 
Spirits Calling . . . . 



William Henry Burleigh 
Still will we trust . . . 
" Rejoice in the Lord al 
ways " 

they that 



" Blessed 
mourn " . . 

Needed Blessings 
Faith's Repose . 



290 
291 
292 
2 93 
293 

294 

296 
297 
298 
298 
299 
300 

300 
301 
301 
302 
302 
302 

303 
3°4 

305 

305 
306 
308 

3°9 
310 

312 

3i3 
3 l 3 
3H 

3i5 
3i6 

3*7 

3*7 
3i8 
3i9 



XX INDEX OF AUTHORS AND SUBJECTS. 



PAGE 

A Psalm of Night .... 320 

The Harvest Call .... 321 

Ordination Hymn .... 322 

Samuel D. Robbins . . . 323 

The Master 324 

The Day 325 

The Compass 325 

Communion Hymn . . . 326 

Sunset 327 

Half-century Celebration . 327 

Ordination Hymn .... 328 

Baca 328 

Euthanasia 329 

The Snow-Line .... 330 

Lead me 330 

Frederick A. Whitney . .331 
" I have set watchmen upon 

thy walls" 332 

"And in this place will I 

give peace " . . . . 333 
" Pray ye therefore the Lord 

of the harvest " . . . . 334 

Jones Very 335 

The Son 336 

The Spirit-Land .... 337 

Change 337 

The Prayer 338 

Beauty 338 

The New Birth 339 

The Presence 339 

The Light within .... 340 

As ye sow, so shall ye reap 340 

The Hours 341 

The Dew 342 

The Efficacy of a Mother's 

Prayer 342 

Our Soldiers' Graves . . . 343 

The Promise of the Spirit . 344 

Childhood's Songs . . . 345 

How come the Dead . . . 345 

The Coming of the Lord . 346 

Cyrus A. Bartol .... 347 

Beauty of the World ... 348 

The Mountains 349 



PAGE 

The Enduring Kingdom . 349 

Jubilee Hymn 350 

Morning and Evening Praise 351 

The Children in the Temple 351 
On Visiting my Home after 

Forty Years 352 

Charles T. Brooks . . . 353 

The Poor 354 

The Faithful Monk . . . 355 
Dedication of Plummer Hall, 

Salem 356 

Saint John's Vision . . . 357 

An Evening Hymn . . . 358 

Installation Hymn .... 359 

The Memory of Channing . 360 
On the Death of a Young 

Artist 361 

In Memoriam. H. T. Tuck- 

erman 362 

Hymn for a Festival . . . 364 
Hymn for the End of the 

Year 1871 365 

Such is Life 366 

The Great Voices .... 366 

Hymn for Visitation Day . 367 

For the Newport Church . 367 

Death of a Young Man . . 368 

In Memory of M. K. H. . 369 

Our Country 370 

Novalis's Ninth Spiritual 

Song ^ 371 

Translations from the Poetry 

of the Brahmins . . . 372, 373 

Washington Very .... 373 
The Old Putney Burial- 

Place 374 

The Snow 375 

Spring 375 

James Richardson .... 376 

God's True Temple ... 378 

Trust in Man 379 

The Lost Art 379 

Truth and Nature .... 380 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND SUBJECTS. xxi 



The Hymn of Summer . 
One in Christ .... 



George Osgood .... 
Walnut Grove Cemetery 
The Master's Call and Lead 
Lines in an Album . 
Lines on the Loss of a Child 
The Beloved Physician 
Tribute to Dr. Willard 

Robert C. Waterston 
Supplication . . . 

Worship 

Truth 

God of the Soul . . 
The Son of God . . 
Here and Now . . . 
Faith and Love . . . 
Nature and the Soul . 
Looking unto Christ . 
For a Religious Festival 
Christian Benevolence , 
Hymn for a Sunday School 
On the Death of a Child 
Anniversary Hymn . 
Parting Hymn . . . 

The Soul 

Ceaseless Aspirations 
Mortal and Immortal 
The Crown of Life . 
The Departed . . . 



Anna C. L. Waterston 

The Epiphany . . . 
On an Engraving of 

Crucifixion . . . 
Together. A Tribute 

Col. Robert G. Shaw 
Installation Hymn 



Thomas Htll . . 
Installation Hymn 
The Eternal Word 
Dedication Hymn . 
Carpe Diem . . . 



the 



to 



PAGE 
382 
382 

3S3 
3§3 
335 
385 
386 

3§7 

388 

390 

39 1 
392 
392 
393 
393 
394 
394 
395 
395 
396 
39S 
399 
399 
400 
401 
402 
403 
403 
404 

405 

406 

407 

40S 

409 
409 

410 

411 
412 
412 
4i3 



Quando veniet Lux ? . 
Redeeming Love . . 
Easter Hymn . . . 
Memorial Hall, Cambridge 

Antiope 

Submission .... 
" Out of the Depths " 
God, our Eternal Joy 



John Weiss .... 

Epiphany 

For a Summer Festival 
Ordination Hymn . . 
Blest Spirit of my Life 
Hope of Immortality . 

John W. Weidemeyer 

Happiness .... 
The Spirit's Revelations 
Reliance on God . . 

Samuel Longfellow . 

John and Jesus . . . 
A Xew Commandment 
Life's Mission . . . 
They looked unto Him, 

were lightened . . 
Ordination Hymn . . 
Prayer for Inspiration 
Father, I have sinned 
The Church Universal 
Peace on Earth . . . 
" Behold, the fields 

white " .... 
Hymn of Winter . . 
Vesper Hymns . . . 



James T. Fields . . 
Our Fireside Evening Hy 
A Poor Man's Epitaph 
The Flight of Angels . 
The Dead .... 
Summer Evening Melody 
To Thomas Starr King 
Dirge for a Young Girl 
Eventide in the Country 
A Character 



and 



PACK 

414 
415 
415 
416 

417 
417 
4T8 
418 

419 

420 
421 
422 

423 
424 

424 

425 
426 
427 

428 
429 
430 
43° 

43i 
431 
432 

433 
434 
434 

435 
435 
43 6 

437 
433 
438 
439 
439 
440 
440 
441 
442 
442 



xxii INDEX OF AUTHORS AND SUBJECTS. 






PAGE 

Moon -rise at Sea .... 442 

Home 443 

Hymn for " Children's 

Praise" . 444 

Hymn for the Unitarian Fes- 
tival, 1853 444 

Samuel Johnson .... 445 

For Divine Strength . . . 446 
The Reformer's Vow . . . 446 
In Time of War . . . . 447 
The Conflict of Life '. . . 448 
The Church's Work ... 449 
Dedication of a Chapel . . 449 
Made Perfect through Suf- 
fering 450 

Inspiration ...... 451 

The City of God .... 452 

The Power of Jesus . . . 453 

Paul 453 

Octavicjs B. Frothingham. 454 

The Soldiers of the Cross . 455 

Caroline A. Mason . . . 456 

Waking 456 

Not Yet 458 

In Sickness 458 

Dark Hours ..... 459 

Daily Bread 460 

A Song in the Night . . . 461 

Beauty for Ashes .... 463 

Matin Hymn . . - . . . 464 

Eventide 465 

Lydia L. A. Very .... 466 

To the Virgin 466 

To the Unknown Christ . 467 

The Promises 46S 

The First Cable . . . . 46S 

William Rounseville Al- 
ger 469 

The Bitter Cup Sweet . . 470 

Funeral Hymn 471 

My Heart 47 1 



PAGB 

The Better Part .... 472 

Christmas Hymn . ... 472 

Hymn at Divinity School . 473 
Installation of Thomas Starr 

King 474 

Fourth of July 474 

A Higher Devotion . . . 475 

The Result 475 

Robert Collyer .... 476 

Dedication Hymn .... 477 

Unity Church 478 



Thomas Wentworth Hig- 
ginson 

For the Graduating Class, 
Cambridge Theological 
School, 1847 . . 

The Mystery of God 

The Nation's Sin . 

The Hope of Man . 

I will arise, and go 
Father .... 

Decoration . . . 



to 



Frances M. Chesbro 



A Memory . . 
Hymn of Peace . 
Under the Snow 



Albert Laighton . 



To my Soul . . . 
New England . . 
The Midnight Voice 
To a Bigot . . . 
The Veiled Grief . 
A Hymn of Confession 
Dedication Hymn . 
The Two Worlds . 

Ode 

Under the Leaves . 
Trust in the Saviour 

Martha Perry Lowe 
Song of David . . 
Easter Even . . . 



my 



478 



479 
480 
481 
482 

482 
483 

484 
485 
486 
488 

489 
489 
490 
490 
491 
492 
492 

493 
494 
495 
495 
496 

497 

497 
498 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND SUBJECTS. XXill 



PAGE 

Work 499 

Call to the Churches . . . 499 
The Rock of Ages ... 500 



Sara Hammond Palfrey . 501 

The Child's Plea .... 501 

The Exchange 502 

Quare Tristis 503 

The Seeker 503 

William Everett .... 504 

" Adeste Fideles "... 505 

The God of Tenderness . . 506 

Hymn for the Seaside . . 506 

Prayer against Conceit . . 507 
To us there is one God, the 

Father 508 

The Children's God . . . 509 

William Channing Gan- 
nett 510 

"The Hills of the Lord " . 510 

Sunday on the Hill-Top . 512 
The Secret Place of the 

Most High 513 

"Consider the Lilies how 

they Grow " 514 

Dedication Hymn . . . . 515 

Listening for God . . . . 516 



John White Chadwick . 
Hymn for Visitation Day 
Sealed Orders . . 
Ordination Hymn . 
Sadness and Gladness 
After Sweet Singing 
Another Year . . 
Charles Sumner 



Bay 



of 



Charles H. A. Dall 
After a Storm in the 

Bengal .... 
The Southern Cross 
Hunger and Thirst 
"In thy light shall 

light" .... 

Death 

The Power of Truth 



Caroline H. Dall 

What a Blue -bird said to a 
Little boy 



The Old Red Rock 
At a Death-Bed . 

William C. H. Dall 
God's Plarvest . . 
"It is I, be not afraid 
The Grave of Agassiz 
Scattered . . . 
Excelsior . . . 



PAG* 

517 

517 

518 

520 

521 

5 2 3 

5 2 4 
525 

525 

526 

527 
527 

527 
528 

529 
S3© 

53i 
533 

533 

534 
534 
535 
536 
537 
S3* 



SINGERS AND SONGS 



LIBERAL FAITH, 



JAMES FREEMAN. 
(1759-1835.) 

Rev. James Freeman, D.D., was born in Charlestown, Mass., April 22, 
1759, and was the son of Constant Freeman, a descendant of Samuel 
Freeman, who came to this country in the first half of the seventeenth 
century, and was one of the early proprietors of Watertown, Mass., which 
was settled in 1630. James was educated in the public Latin School 
in Boston and at Harvard College. After having graduated at the 
latter in 1777, he visited his relatives at Cape Cod, and there engaged 
in disciplining a company of men who were about to join the Colonial 
troops. In 1780, while sailing to Quebec, he was captured by a priva- 
teer and was for some time detained as a prisoner in that city. Return- 
ing to Boston in the summer of 1782, and being a candidate for the 
ministry, he was invited, in September of that year, to be Reader at 
King's Chapel, which was then an Episcopal Church, and which, having 
been founded in 1686, was the first church of that communion in New 
England. Soon after his settlement, the church consented to modify 
its Liturgy to suit Mr. Freeman's growing Anti-Trinitarian views and its 
own advancing liberal thought and sentiment. " Thus," says Rev. F. 
W. P. Greenwood, D.D., his colleague and successor at King's Chapel, 
"the first Episcopal Church in New England became the first Unita- 
rian Church in the New World." Mr. Freeman was the first avowed 
preacher of Unitarianism in the United States. As it was impossible for 
him, under such circumstances, to procure a regular Episcopal ordina- 
tion, the church itself ordained him, Nov'. 18, 1787. He was married, 
July 17, 1788, to Martha (Curtis) Clarke, the widow of Samuel Clarke, 
Esq., merchant of Boston. He had no children, though Mrs. Freeman 
by her first, marriage had one son, who was the father of Rev. James 
Freeman Clarke, D.D. In 181 1, he received the degree of D.D. from 
Harvard College. He resigned his pastorate in 1826, and retired to a 
country residence near Boston, where he died, Nov. 14, 1835. 

1 



2 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Dr. Freeman's labors in behalf of the public school system of his 
adopted city were manifold and most beneficent. He was one of the 
founders of the Massachusetts Historical Society, and was a Member of 
the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. In 1799, he published 
a "Collection of Psalms and Hymns for Public Worship," the psalms 
being taken from Tate and Brady, and the hymns from Enfield's and 
other English compilations. He is said to have been assisted in the prep- 
aration of this Hymn-book for use in his own church, by the father of 
Rev. Samuel J. May, Col. Joseph May, to whom a monument has lately 
been erected in King's Chapel. Dr, Freeman contributed numerous 
articles to the papers and magazines, and published various pamphlets 
and volumes of sermons. His style as a writer has often been spoken of 
as a model of pure English. This venerated father of the Liberal Faith 
in America is described to us as a person of benignant look, of kind and 
affable manners, of a cheerful and benevolent spirit, and of a pure, just, 
and blameless walk among men. 

The only hymn which we find ascribed to him appeared originally in 
his own Collection, and has since been admitted extensively into similar 
books for the sanctuary. It is an adaptation to church music of Thom- 
son's Hymn on the Seasons. 



HYMN OF THE SEASONS. 

T ORD of the worlds below ! 

On earth thy glories shine 
The changing seasons show 
Thy skill and power divine. 

In all we see 

A God appears ; 

The rolling years 

Are full of thee. 

Forth in the flowery spring, 
We see thy beauty move ; 
The birds on branches sing 
Thy tenderness and love : 

Wide flush the hills ; 

The air is balm : 

Devotion's calm 

Our bosom fills. 



THE DA VISES. 

Then come, in robes of light, 
The summer's flaming days ; 
The sun, thine image bright, 
Thy majesty displays ; 

And oft thy voice 

In thunder rolls ; 

But still our souls 

In thee rejoice. 

In autumn, a rich feast 
Thy common bounty gives 
To man, and bird, and beast, 
And every thing that lives. 
Thy liberal care, 
At morn, and noon, 
And harvest moon, 
Our lips declare. 

In winter, awful thou ! 
With storms around thee cast 
The leafless forests bow 
Beneath thy northern blast. 
While tempests lower, 
To thee, dread King, 
We homage bring, 
And own thy power. 



KV@ie 



JOHN DAVIS. 

(1761-1847.) 

Hon. John Davis, LL.D., born in Plymouth, Mass., Jan. 25, 1761, was 
the son of Thomas and Mercy (Hedge) Davis. He attended the schools 
of Alexander Scammel and Peleg Wadsworth, the former an Adjutant- 
General of the American Army, who was killed at the battle of York- 
town, and the latter the grandfather of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
Having entered Harvard College in 1777, he graduated with honor at 



4 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

the Commencement in 178 1, on which occasion he was the class poet. 
He afterward taught school in Plymouth, and, still later, was a teacher 
in the family of Joseph Otis, of Barnstable, the brother of James Otis. 
He studied law with Oakes Angier, of Bridgewater, and subsequently 
with Benjamin Lincoln, son of General Lincoln of the Revolution, 
and began the practice of his profession in Plymouth in 1786, dur- 
ing which year also he was married to Ellen Watson, daughter of 
Hon. William Watson, of that town. A delegate to the convention 
held for the adoption of the Federal Constitution, he was both its 
youngest member and oldest survivor. At various times he represented 
his fellow-citizens in the two branches of the Massachusetts Legisla- 
ture. He was appointed Comptroller of the United States Treasury by 
Washington, and afterward United States Attorney, removing his resi- 
dence to Boston, where he lived until his death, Jan. 14, 1847. By Presi- 
dent John Adams he was honored, in 1801, with the office of Judge 
of the District Court of Massachusetts, and remained on the bench 
for forty years. He was one of the Fellows of Harvard College from 
1803 to 1810, its Treasurer from 1810 to 1827, and a member of its 
Board of Overseers from 1827 to 1837 ; received the degree of LL.D. 
from Dartmouth College in 1802, and from his Alma Mater in 1842 ; 
was for a time President of the Massachusetts Historical Society, and 
was a member also of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences and 
of the American Philosophical Society of Philadelphia. He published 
an edition of Morton's " New England Memorial," which he enriched 
with copious and valuable notes ; and he was the author of numerous 
other works which added to his wide and justly deserved fame. At the 
time he resigned his judicial office, Hon. Franklin Dexter, in presenting 
the resolutions of the Boston Bar, spoke of his labors on the bench as 
exhibiting " varied and accurate learning, sound and discriminating judg- 
ment, unwearied patience, gentleness of manners, and perfect purity." 
Hon. George S. Hillard said of him, in his speech at the dinner of the 
Plymouth celebration of 1870 : " His was the pure and lofty spirit of the 
Pilgrims, softened by the influences of a milder age and of a creed less 
stern. In him was the 'prisca fides,' the ancient faith of Marcel- 
lus, and the 'mitis sapientia,' the gentle wisdom of Laelius. He was 
wise and good, tender and true ; the calm of age was in his youth, and 
'the freshness and hopefulness of youth was in his age." 

Of his various poetical productions we present two pieces. The first 
of these was written for the Pilgrim Celebration at Plymouth, in 1792. 
A part of it, at least, has appeared in some of our hymn-books, and has 
been sung on numerous public commemorative occasions. We copy it 
entire, as it was revised and corrected by its author fifty years after it 
was originally composed. In this form it was used at the celebration of 
the Two Hundred and Fiftieth Anniversary of the Landing of the Pil- 
grims at Plymouth, Dec. 21, 1870, and is to be found in the volume 
containing the published proceedings of that interesting festive day. 



THE DA VISES. 

THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 

CONS of renowned sires, 

**" Join in harmonious choirs, 

Swell your loud songs ; 
Daughters of peerless dames, 
Come with your mild acclaims, 
Let their revered names 

Dwell on your tongues. 

From frowning Albion's seat 
See the famed band retreat, 

On ocean tost ; 
Blue tumbling billows roar, 
By keel scarce ploughed before, 
And bear them to this shore 

Fettered with frost. 

By yon wave-beaten rock 
See the illustrious flock 

Collected stand ; 
To seek some sheltering grove 
Their faithful partners move, 
Dear pledges of their love 

In either hand. 

Not winter's sullen face, 
Not the fierce tawny race 

In arms arrayed, 
Not hunger, shook their faith ; 
Not sickness' baleful breath, 
Nor Carver's early death, 

Their souls dismayed. 

Watered by heavenly dew, 
The Germ of Empire grew, 
Freedom its root : 



SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

From the cold northern pine, 
Far toward the burning line, 
Spreads the luxuriant vine, 
Bending with fruit. 

Columbia, child of heaven ! 
The best of blessings given 

Be thine to greet ; 
Hailing this votive day, 
Looking with fond survey 
Upon the weary way 

Of Pilgrim feet. 

Here trace the moss-grown stones, 
Where rest their mouldering bones, 

Again to rise ; 
And let thy sons be led 
To emulate the dead, 
While o'er their tombs they tread 

With moistened eyes. 



FOREFATHERS' DAY. 

Written for the Pilgrim Celebration at Plymouth, in 1799. 

TIT AIL, Pilgrim Fathers of our race ! 

With grateful hearts your toils we trace ; 
Again this Votive Day returns, 
And finds us bending o'er your urns. 

Jehovah's arm prepared the road ; 
The Heathen vanished at his nod ; 
He gave his vine a lasting root ; 
He loads its goodly boughs with fruit. 

The hills are covered with its shade ; 
Its thousand shoots like cedars spread ; 
Its branches to the sea expand, 
And reach to broad Superior's strand. 



THE DA VISES. 

Of peace and truth the gladsome ray 
Smiles in our skies and cheers the day ; 
And a new Empire's splendent wheels 
Roll o'er the top of Western hills. 

Hail, Pilgrim Fathers of our race ! 
With grateful hearts your toils we trace ; 
Oft as this Votive Day returns, 
We'll pay due honors to your urns. 



Samuel Davis, brother of Hon. John Davis, was born in Plymouth, 
March 5, 1765. He devoted most of his life to antiquarian studies, and 
probably possessed more abundant and accurate knowledge of New 
England history than any man of his time. The collections of the Massa- 
chusetts Historical Society owe many of their pages to his diligent re- 
searches, and the student and writer of history always found him unerr- 
ing authority. He died in Plymouth, July 10, 1829. His gravestone on 
Burying Hill bears the following inscription, written by his brother 
John : — 

" From life on earth our pensive friend retires, 

His dust commingling with the Pilgrim sires ; 

In thoughtful walks their every path he traced ; 

Their toils, their tombs, his faithful page embraced ; 

Peaceful and fair and innocent as they, 

With them to rise to everlasting day. ' ' 

This member, also, of the Davis family in Plymouth, contributed a 
Pilgrim Ode, which was sung at the celebration in 1800. The following 
are some of its stanzas : — 

PILGRIM ODE. 

T ET children learn the mighty deeds 

Their sires achieved of old ; 
And still, as time to time succeeds, 
To them the tale unfold. 

Their pious toils, their just rewards, 

Returning tributes claim, 
While faithful history records 

Each venerable name. 



SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

No longer now the roaming hordes 

Unhallowed vigils keep ; 
No more affrighted mothers guard 

Their cradled infants' sleep. 

But social arts and peaceful homes 

This favored land endear, 
Where fields, and masts, and rising domes 

With scattered grace appear. 

Let musing strangers view the ground, 

Here seek tradition's lore, 
Where Pilgrims walked their holy round 

W T ith God in days of yore. 



Hon. William T. Davis, born in Plymouth, March 3, 1822, is a 
grandson of William Davis, who was brother of John and Samuel, 
above mentioned. He entered Harvard College in 1838, graduated in 
1842, and afterwards studied law. He still resides in his native town ; 
has been a member of the Massachusetts Senate, 1858 and 1859, and 
also of the Massachusetts Historical Society ; President of the Plymouth 
Society ; President of the Plymouth Bay Unitarian Conference, and Vice- 
President of the American Unitarian Association ; while he has also 
received many other proofs of the confidence and respect of his fellow- 
citizens. He wrote the following hymn for the Two Hundred<and Fiftieth 
Anniversary of the Landing of the Pilgrims : — 



OUR FATHERS' GOD. 

HPO Thee, O God ! whose guiding hand 

Our Fathers led across the sea, 
And brought them to this barren shore, 
Where they might freely worship Thee ; 

To Thee, O God ! whose arm sustained 
Their footsteps in this desert land, 
Where sickness lurked and death assailed, 
And foes beset on every hand, — 



JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 

To Thee, God ! we lift our eyes, 
To Thee our grateful voices raise, 
And, kneeling at Thy gracious throne, 
Devoutly join in hymns of praise. 

Our Fathers' God ! incline Thine ear, 
And listen to our heartfelt prayer ; 
Surround us with Thy heavenly grace, 
And guard us with Thy constant care. 

Our Fathers' God ! in Thee we'll trust, 
Sheltered by Thee from every harm : 
We'll follow where Thy hand shall guide, 
And lean on Thy sustaining arm. 



JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 

(i 767-1 848.) 

John Quincy Adams was born, July it, 1767, in that part of Braintree, 
Mass., which was afterward incorporated as a distinct township under 
the name of Quincy. He was a descendant of the fifth generation from 
Henry Adams, who came to America early in the seventeenth century, 
and settled in Braintree ; and he was the son of John Adams, the second 
President of the United States. His long and illustrious career is too 
familiar to the reader to justify more than the briefest mention of its 
principal stages or events. From his earliest life he was greatly blessed by 
the influence upon him of his pious and gifted mother, Abigail (Smith) 
Adams. In his youth he repeatedly accompanied his father to Europe, 
and was placed at various schools abroad ; was afterward private 
secretary of Hon. Francis Dana, minister to Russia ; graduated at 
Harvard College in 1787 ; studied law with Theophilus Parsons, of 
Newburyport, and entered upon the practice of his profession in Bos- 
ton ; was sent as minister to the Netherlands and also to Prussia ; 
served as member of the Massachusetts Senate, and of the Senate of the 
United States ; was Boylston Professor of Rhetoric and Oratory at Cam- 
bridge ; himself, like Mr. Dana, represented his country at St. Peters- 
burg, and, having been the head of the Commissioners who negotiated 
the Treaty of Ghent, was honored, like his father, with the mission at 
the Court of St. James ; was appointed Secretary of State under Presi- 



IO SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

dent Monroe, and was at length elected Chief Magistrate of the Nation. 
Vet, after his Presidential term, he was sent by his fellow-citizens, for 
seventeen consecutive years, to the House of Representatives at Wash- 
ington, where, after many a brave battle for the right of petition, and 
a chivalrous and unfaltering devotion to the cause of liberty and the weal 
of the Republic, he fell suddenly at his post, stricken with paralysis, on 
Monday, Feb. 21, 1848. He died on the following Wednesday, and his 
remains were conveyed to Quincy for burial, attended by members of 
Congress from every State in the Union. The funeral services were 
held in the Unitarian Church, where, at home, he had regularly and de- 
voutly worshipped ; and a most appropriate and impressive discourse 
was delivered on the occasion by his pastor, Rev. W. P. Lunt, D.D., 
while at the same time other eloquent voices paid fitting tributes to his 
memory. The general verdict of his countrymen, in relation to his 
character and life, is well given in a resolution which was passed, just after 
his death, by the people of his native town, and which pronounced him 
" one of the ablest, wisest, and most virtuous statesmen of modern times ; 
a patriot, who has stood by his country in peace and in war, and who has 
guarded her interests at home and abroad ; a scholar of the most varied 
attainments ; an orator of surpassing eloquence ; a friend and advocate 
of truth, freedom, and justice ; a man of unbending integrity in public 
and private life ; and, above all, a Christian who, in the greatest press of 
official cares, never forgot or omitted his duties to God." 

The writings of Mr. Adams consist of a great mass of letters, speeches, 
lectures, eulogies, and important public papers, largely now in press, 
and edited by his son Hon. Charles Francis Adams, who includes in his 
work an extensive diary Life of his father. In a life crowded to its close 
with such varied and arduous public service, Mr. Adams found no little 
time to cultivate his taste and improve his talent for poetic composition. 
His longest poem was "Dermot MacMorrogh, or the Conquest of Ire- 
land," an Historical Tale of the 12th Century, in four Cantos, published 
in 1832. From an Appendix in Rev. Dr. Lunt's pamphlet containing his 
funeral discourse, we learn that, while he was preparing in 1841 a new 
Hymn-book for the use of his own society, known as " The Christian 
Psalter," Mrs. Adams placed in his hands an entire metrical version 
which her husband had made of the Psalms, together with a few other 
pieces of poetry which he had written. From these Dr. Lunt selected 
twenty-two hymns, and gave them a place in his Collection. A small 
volume of Mr. Adams's " Poems " was published in Auburn and Buffalo, 
N. Y., in 1854, comprising, beside pieces of a more secular character, 
most, if not all, of the hymns which have found their way into the ser- 
vice of Sacred Song. Of the latter we present the following specimens, 
one or two of which have been widely adopted and much admired : — 



JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. II 



PSALM XIX. 

" I "URN to the stars of heaven thine eyes, 

And God shall meet thee there ; 
Exalt thy vision to the skies, 

His glory they declare ; 
Day speaks to day, night teaches night, 

The wonders of their frame, 
And all in harmony unite 

Their Maker to "proclaim. 

Earth has no language, man no speech, 

But gives their voice a tongue ; 
Their words the world's foundations reach, 

Their hymn in heaven is sung : 
Pavilioned there in glory bright, 

As from a blooming bride, 
The sun comes forth in floods of light, 

With all a bridegroom's pride. 

Glad, like a giant for the race, 

His orient flame ascends, 
Soars through the boundless realms of space, 

And in the West descends ; 
His heat the vital lamp bestows, 

The firmament pervades, 
In ocean's darkest caverns glows, 

And earth's profoundest shades. 



PSALM CXXXIX. 

C\ LORD, thy all-discerning eyes 

My inmost purpose see ; 
My deeds, my words, my thoughts, arise 
Alike disclosed to thee ! 



12 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

My sitting down, my rising up. 
Broad noon and deepest night, 

My path, my pillow, and my cup, 
Are open to thy sight. 

Before, behind, I meet thine eye, 

And feel thy heavy hand ; 
Such knowledge is for me too high 

To reach or understand ; 
What of thy wonders can I know ? 

What of thy purpose see ? 
Where from thy Spirit shall I go ? 

Where from thy presence flee ? 

If I ascend to heaven on high, 

Or make my bed in hell ; 
Or take the morning's wings, and fly 

O'er ocean's bounds to dwell ; 
Or seek from thee a hiding-place 

Amid the gloom of night, — 
Alike to thee are time and space, 

The darkness and the light. 



THE DEATH OF CHILDREN. 



These verses originally appeared in the " Monthly Anthology and Boston Review," 
January, 1807, and are a part of a piece which there consists of twenty stanzas, and is 
entitled "Lines addressed to a Mother on the death of two infants, 19 Sept. 1803, and 
19 Dec. 1806." 

^URE, to the mansions of the blest 
When infant innocence ascends, 
Some angel brighter than the rest 
The spotless spirit's flight attends. 

On wings of ecstasy they rise, 

Beyond where worlds material roll, 

Till some fair sister of the skies 
Receives the unpolluted soul. 



JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 1 3 

There, at th' Almighty Father's hand, 

Nearest the throne of living light, 
The choirs of infant seraphs stand, 

And dazzling shine, where all are bright. 

That inextinguishable beam, 

With dust united at our birth, 
Sheds a more dim, discolored gleam, 

The more it lingers upon earth. 

Closed in this dark abode of clay, 

The stream of glory faintly burns, 
Nor unobscured the lucid ray 

To its own native fount returns. 

But when the Lord of mortal breath 

Decrees his bounty to resume, 
And points the silent shaft of death, 

Which speeds an infant to the tomb, — 

No passion fierce, no low desire, 

Has quenched the radiance of the flame • 

Back to its God the living fire 
Returns, unsullied, as it came. 



THE HOUR-GLASS. 

Written for the Two Hundredth Anniversary of the First Congregational Church, 
Quincy, Sept. 29, 1839. 

A LAS ! how swift the moments fly ! 

How flash the years along ! 
Scarce here, yet gone already by, 

The burden of a song. 
See childhood, youth, and manhood piss, 

And age, with furrowed brow ; 

Time was, Time shall be, but alas 1 

Where, where in Time is now ? 



14 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Time is the measure but of change ; 

No present hour is found ; 
The past, the future, fill the range 

Of Time's unceasing round. 
Where, then, is now ? In realms above, 

With God's atoning Lamb, 
In regions of eternal love, 

Where sits enthroned I AM. 

Then, pilgrim, let thy joys and tears 

On Time no longer lean ; 
But henceforth all thy hopes and fears 

From earth's affections wean : 
To God let votive accents rise ; 

With truth, with virtue live ; 
So all the bliss that Time denies 

Eternity shall give. 

SAMUEL WILLARD. 
(1776-1859.) 

Rev. Samuel Willard, D. D., born in Petersham, Mass., April 18, 
1776, was a son of William and Catherine (Wilde) Willard, and grand- 
son of Rev. Samuel Willard, of Biddeford, Me. Samuel Willard, the 
grandfather of the Biddeford minister, was acting President of Harvard 
College, 1701-1707, and was the son of Major Simon Willard, who came 
from Kent, England, and bought land of the Indians in Concord, Mass., 
before the year 1635. Joseph Willard, another President of Harvard, 
1781-1804, was uncle to Samuel, the subject of this sketch. The latter 
spent his early years on his father's farm. He began to prepare himself 
for college at the age of twenty-one, and was fitted mainly under the 
instruction of Rev. Nathaniel Thayer, D.D., of Lancaster, Mass. Hav- 
ing graduated at Harvard in 1803, he was subsequently for more than a 
year Dr. Abbot's assistant in the Exeter Academy, and was afterwards 
for some months tutor at Bowdoin College, prosecuting at both of these 
last-named institutions his study of the classics, and devoting himself 
also to the study of Theology, under the direction of Drs. Appleton, Buck- 
minster, and McKean. In September, 1805, he removed to Cambridge, 
where he continued his preparations for the ministry, and soon obtained 
a license to preach. Economical considerations induced him to reside for 



SAMUEL WILLARD. 1 5 

a time at Andover, and it was while he was there that he was invited 
to preach at Deerfield, Mass. He gave his first sermon in that place, 
March 15, 1S07, and received the next June a call to settle. August 12th 
was the day fixed upon for the ordination. The council, called in 
accordance with the custom of the churches, sat for two days, and after 
a rigid examination of the candidate refused to ordain him, regarding 
his views too liberal for the orthodox standard. Here was one of the 
first indications of the split that was destined ere long to divide the 
Congregational body of New England. Another council was called with 
more success, and he was duly ordained, September 23d, of the same 
year. From that time Mr. Willard was a recognized pioneer of the 
Liberal movement in Western Massachusetts, bravely contending by 
voice and pen for a larger freedom, and willingly suffering not a little 
odium and persecution for the sake of what he believed to be the truth. 
On the 30th of May, 1S0S, he was married to Susan, only daughter of 
Dr. Joshua Barker, of Hingham, by whom he had three children, Susan, 
Mary, and Samuel, the last a graduate of Harvard, 1835. About the 
close of the year 1S18 his eyes suddenly failed him in consequence of too 
much study by a dim light. For thirteen years after this sad occurrence 
he was able to see large objects only very indistinctly, and for the re- 
maining twenty-seven 5-ears of his life he was totally blind. The amount 
and variety of intellectual and other labor which, with the faithful aid 
of his family, he accomplished during these forty years of his calamity, 
seem almost incredible. He continued his usual pastoral duties until 
September, 1829, when he resigned his charge ; then removed to Hingham, 
where for some years he assisted his son-in-law in teaching a school ; 
and finally, after a brief residence in Concord, returned to Deerfield, 
where he spent the rest of his days, preaching occasionally for his people 
even to the very close of his long career. 

Most of his many writings were prepared for the press and published 
after his loss of sight. They consist of numerous articles for the 
"Christian Register," "Christian Disciple," and other papers and 
magazines ; a variety of controversial, historical, and occasional dis- 
courses ; a series of School Readers, and a few volumes beside relat- 
ing to the subject of education ; and several collections of music or 
hymns for worship. Of these latter were his " Regular Hymns," num- 
bering 15S songs, composed altogether by himself, and published in 
1823 ; a small tract, also written by himself, and printed in 1826, entitled 
"An Index to the Bible with Juvenile Hymns;" and a compilation, 
" Sacred Music and Poetry Reconciled," which was issued in 1830. and 
which contained 518 hymns from various authors, nearly 180 of them 
being his own. In the Library of Harvard College is a manuscript, in 
which all of his hymns appear, revised and corrected by their author, 
and preceded by an elaborate treatise, in which he explains and advo- 
cates the theory of " a coincidence between the musical and the poetical 
emphasis." The subject was one that engaged his mind and occupied 



1 6 SOA r GS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

his pen for many years, and all his own hymns were written or altered 
with a view of practically illustrating this thought. Dr. Willard claimed 
no high poetic merit. Yet his hymns, however modest their claim, 
are filled with the sanctity of his own spirit ; they are musical in their 
rhythm and smooth in versification. To such an extent had he exer- 
cised and strengthened his memory after he was deprived of his sense 
of sight, that he could readily repeat any one of his hymns, as also he 
could whole books of the Bible. 

He was chosen a member of the Academy of Arts and Sciences in 
1815, and in 1826 he received the degree of D.D. from Harvard College. 
He was a sturdy and unfaltering advocate of Temperance and Freedom, 
and the cause of Education ever found in him a wise and faithful 
helper. Even in his blindness, and to the day of his death, he was 
deemed a public benefactor. He bore his trials with remarkable patience 
and cheerfulness, and his piety and goodness were the frequent theme 
of all who saw him, or learned his name. He died at Deerfield, 
Mass., Oct. 8, 1859. 

The following hymns, except the last two, are taken from Dr. Wil- 
lard's Collection published in 1830, but are given here as they are found 
altered and revised in the manuscript referred to. The first originally 
appeared in the " Christian Disciple," 1822, with others from the same 
source. 

FOR A BIRTHDAY. 

A LL hail the smiling rays 
Of this my natal day ! 
Awake, my soul, to sound his praise, 
Who formed this living clay. 

How many tranquil years 

I've passed beneath thy care ! 
His love has oft assuaged my fears, 

And answered every prayer. 

My soul, with humble joy 

Review the season past ; 
Let thankful songs my lips employ 

While life and being last. 

My father's God, on thee 

My only hopes depend ; 
From every sin preserve me free, 

From every ill defend. 



SAMUEL WILLARD. 1 7 

With thee I leave my cares, 

To thee my soul intrust, 
To thee devote my future years, 

Till nature sleep in dust. 



Some of the Collections have a part, or the whole, of another hymn by 
Dr. Willard, consisting of five stanzas, of which we here give four : — 



FOR THE PEACE OF THE CHURCH. 

T O, they come from East and West ; 
Come to enjoy the heavenly rest : 
North and South, in bliss complete, 
Round the eternal altar meet. 

Saints of different ages come ; 
Find in heaven one common home ; 
Who on earth have walked by faith 
Breathe the same inspiring breath. 

Mighty throng ! how great ! how blest ! 
Wondrous peace, and joy, and rest ! 
What shall fit us, Lord, for this ? 
Fit our souls for heavenly bliss ? 

Peace on earth, and peace alone ; 
Peace, that makes all churches one ; 
Peace, the fruit of Christian love, 
Fits the soul for bliss above. 



AGAINST UNREASONABLE FEARS. 



{^EASE, my heart, to dread the morrow 
Hush thine anxious cares to rest ; 



Let no unavailing sorrow 

Ever throb within my breast. 



1 8 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

All that loving care confessing, 
Whence thy present comforts flow, 

Humbly wait each future blessing ; 
Leave with Him each future woe. 

Under his all-wise direction, 

Guard against impending harm ; 

Still with his divine protection, 
Cease from every vain alarm. 

THE PRAYER OF PENITENCE. 

T N deep affliction, Lord, I lie ; 

To thee I breathe the fervent sigh, 
My sins and follies, oh, forgive, 
Those sins which now my spirit grieve ! 

The gloomy night involves the day ; 
My wonted joys have fled away ; 
In my desponding bosom, Lord, 
Thy precious promises record. 

I see, I see advancing light : 
It spreads and rises still more bright. 
Henceforth I breathe immortal air, — 
Eternal Love has heard my prayer. 



The following, except the first stanza, was copied into the " Christian 
Examiner," 1824, from Dr. Willard's " Regular Hymns," and is one of 
his best. 

EVENING HYMN. 

T17ELCOME, ye deep and silent shades 
That veil the glowing west ! 
Hour of repose, 
Softly it flows, 
Diffusing balmy rest. 



SAMUEL WILLARD. 19 

Far from the world we now retire, 
And raise our eyes to God, 
Who, in his love, 
Smiles from above, 
And cheers our dark abode. 

Author of all the countless worlds 
The vault of heaven displays, 

Awed by thy power, 

Thee we adore, 
And chant our evening lays. 

Under those eyes which never close 
We lay us down to sleep ; 

Hearer of prayer, 

Make us thy care, 
And safe our slumbers keep. 

Soon as the sun, with new-born rays, 
Relumes the Eastern skies, 
Source of all light, 
Beam on our sight, 
And bless our waking eyes. 



In a postscript to the Preface of his manuscript, Dr. Willard tells 
us that such of the hymns as are marked with an asterisk were written, 
and all the changes in hymns before published Were made, in the eighty- 
second year of the author's age. Of the fifty or more hymns that ap- 
pear with a star, and that were thus composed by him during his last 
days, are the two which we here give : — 



THE SURE PROMISES OF GOD. 

Daniel ix. 2, 3 ; x. 18, 19 ; Acts x. 4, 5. 

/^J.RANT me, Lord, some precious token, 

Bright and sure, of sins forgiven • 
Oh, may those blest words be spoken, 
" Know thy prayers are heard in heaven " ! 



20 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Oh, those words, my soul sustaining, 
Would renew my languid powers ; 

Give my daylight, now fast waning, 
Brighter tints than morning hours. 

But can such a kind indulgence 
Be on one like me bestowed ? 

Such a ray from thine effulgence 
Penetrate my soul's abode ? 

Lord, if not, with much endurance 

I will wait thy holy will ; 
While denied this bright assurance, 

Thank my God for twilight still. 

No, my Father, thou wilt never 
Turn away the contrite soul ; 

Promises, the same for ever, 

All my doubts and fears control. 

Filial love, I trust, hath bound me, — 
Bound my heart and soul to thee ; 

Hence, though other doubts confound me, 
I'll not doubt thy love to me. 



OLD AGE. 

The last of the four hundred and sixty-seven manuscript hymns, and dated Oct. 3, 1858. 

VT'OUTH and its vernal bloom have fled, 

Summer and autumn gone ; 
And yet, O God, thy love may cheer, 
When wintry days come on. 



Sun of the soul, beneath thy beams 
All things may bloom within ; 

And ripening fruits in frosty age 
May beautify the scene. 



JAMES FLINT. 21 



Thou, who hast fed me all my life, 
Help me to trust thee still ; 

And all the hopes, by thee inspired, 
Most graciously fulfil. 

Then will I travel on my way, 
Long though my journey be, 

Nor tire beneath the weight of years 
While walking, Lord, with thee. 



JAMES FLINT. 
(1779-1855-) 

Rev. James Flint, D.D., was born in Reading, Mass., Dec. 10, 1779. 
lis early years were passed on his father's farm, where he divided his 
me between manual labor and preparatory studies. He began with the 
lassies under the direction of the parish minister, Rev. Eliab Stone. 
le graduated at Harvard College in 1802 ; was afterward Preceptor of 
le Academy in Andover, and subsequently taught school in Dedham, 
r here he studied for the ministry with Rev. Dr. Bates ; was ordained 
astor of the church in East Bridgewater, Oct. 29, 1806 ; and for many 
ears gave private instruction to young men who wished to prepare 
nemselves for the regular course at Cambridge. In April, 1821, he re- 
igned his charge at East Bridgewater, and accepted a call to the East 
Ihurch, Salem, of which he was installed as the pastor on the 19th of the 
blowing September. After a ministry here of thirty years, he requested 
is parish, in view of his advanced age, to grant him the aid of a col- 
iague, and himself designated for the office Rev. Dexter Clapp, who 
ccepted the trust, and entered upon his labors Dec. 17, 1851. Dr. 
lint died, March 4, 1855. His now sainted associate and successor, in a 
ermon which he preached soon afterward, spoke of " the quick and active 
vtellect," of "the lively and exuberant fancy," and of "the deep relig- 
jus sentiment " of his departed friend and counsellor, and quoted from 
letter of a classmate of the latter, Ex-Governor Levi Lincoln, who wrote : 
Dr. Flint's genial character, his warm affections, his pure classic 
aste, the high tone of his moral sentiments, and his literary aspirations 
nd attainments, won the confidence and esteem of all, and made him the 
bject of special regard to those with whom he was most intimate. Well 
nd faithfully has he redeemed all the pledges of his early manhood, by 
iistinguished usefulness in a Christian life, by the cultivation of a gifted 
riind, and the truest devotion of his rare endowments to the best inter- 
sts of his fellow-men." 

Dr. Flint received his degree of D.D., in 1825, from Harvard Col- 
2ge. Besides contributing to some of the principal journals of the day. 



22 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

and publishing some translations from Chateaubriand, he delivered 
numerous occasional discourses, and wrote many hymns and odes for 
public celebrations or anniversary services. In 1843 ne published "A 
Collection of Hymns for the Christian Church and Home," for the use 
of his own society in Salem. It took at once the place of a smaller one 
prepared long before by his distinguished predecessor, Rev. William 
Bentley, D.D. The new Collection retained many of the hymns that 
were in the old, and included many others drawn from various sources. 
Ten or twelve of these were written by Dr. Flint himself, and some of 
them are as follows : — 



GOD WITH THE TRUE WORSHIPPER EVERY- 
WHERE. 

TN costly fane, the pride of art, 

Or bowed in lowliest cell, 
Lord, in the pure and grateful heart 
Thou dost delight to dwell. 

Thy servants find thee everywhere, 

Alone, by night or day ; 
The world is all a house of prayer 

To souls that love to pray. 

Yet, with intenser, brighter flame, 

Devotion's fire will blaze, 
When many meet in Jesus' name 

To join in prayer and praise. 

To thee, the only God, most wise, 

In heaven and earth revered, 
Our mingled vows shall duly rise, 

Our Sabbath hymns be heard. 

Be here our soul's secure retreat, 

Our ark on life's chafed sea ; 
Unheard the storm without shall beat, 

While we commune with thee. 

Here, with a Father's gracious eye, 

Behold the suppliant throng, 
Oft as they breathe the imploring sigh, 

Or wake the choral song. 



JAMES FLINT. 2$ 



THE BEATITUDES. 

TJAPPY the unrepining poor : 

For them the heavenly rest is sure, 
Whose patient minds, in every ill, 
Submissive meet their Maker's will. 

Happy the contrite, who lament 
Their wasted hours, in sin misspent : 
Reclaimed from sin, they shall obtain 
Eternal joys for transient pain. 

Happy the meek, by wisdom taught 
To check each proud, resentful thought : 
For them earth spreads the feast of life, 
Unmixed with bitterness and strife. 

Happy the souls that grow in grace, 
Hunger and thirst for righteousness : 
For them a full and rich supply 
Shall be prepared in worlds on high. 

Happy the men who mercy show 
To all that need, or friend or foe : 
To them like mercy shall be shown, 
When God's just sentence all shall own. 

Happy the pure in heart : for they, 
Still holding on in virtue's way, 
When faith and hope are changed to sight, 
Shall see their God in cloudless light. 

Happy the men of peaceful life, 
Who win to peace the sons of strife : 
They shall be called the sons of God, 
The heirs of his serene abode. 

And happy those who take the cross, 
For truth encounter pain and loss, 
And suffer shame for Christ, their Lord : 
For great in heaven is their reward. 



24 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



EVENING HYMN. 

"pATHER, thy mercies never fail ; 

Again the evening shades prevail, 
And soothed I hear the still, small voice 
That bids me in thy care rejoice. 

Beneath thy sun's all-cheering ray 

I've plied my task another day ; 

And thrice my strength refreshed hath been 

With food, and converse sweet between. 

Thy works, all beautiful and good, 
I've scanned and partly understood ; 
Clothed in their livery of light, 
All speak thy wisdom, love, and might. 

When darkness veils the earth and skies, 
New worlds and wonders o'er me rise, 
That tell, in words of flame from far, 
How vast, how bright thy glories are. 

Kept by thine all-sustaining power, 
I welcome now the solemn hour 
That comes my weary lids to close, 
And lay me down to sweet repose. 

Wrapt in the soft embrace of sleep, 
Let angel-guards their vigils keep 
About my bed, and be my rest 
With holy dreams and visions blest. 

While my tired frame in mimic death 
Lies motionless, save pulse and breath, 
Let my free spirit heavenward fty, 
And, without dying, learn to die. 



JAMES FLINT. 25 



REMEMBRANCE OF OUR FATHERS. 



Sung in the First Congregational Church in Quincy, Mass., May 25, 1840, on the 
completion of the Second Century after the original incorporation of the town. 



T N pleasant lands have fallen the lines 

That bound our goodly heritage .; 
And safe beneath our sheltering vines, 
Our youth is blest, and blest our age. 

What thanks, O God, to thee are due, 
That thou didst plant our fathers here, 

And watch and guard them as they grew, 
A vineyard to the Planter dear ! 

The toils they bore our ease have wrought ; 

They sowed in tears, — in joy we reap ; 
The birthright they so dearly bought 

We'll guard till we with them shall sleep. 

Thy kindness to our fathers shown, 
In want and woe through all the past, 

Their grateful sons, O God, shall own, 
While here their name and race shall last. 



CELEBRATION OF AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE. 

"pREEMEN, we our chartered rights 

Hold from men who lived the lights, 
And the bulwark on her heights, 
Of their country, stood. 

Tyrants' threats and bribes they spurned, 
Back the oppressor's hosts they turned, 
Freedom for their sons they earned 
Bv their toils and blood. 



26 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Be their names immortalized, 
Who their life-blood sacrificed, 
That a boon so dearly prized 
They for us might win. 

Yet in vain our freedom, Lord, 
Bought with blood in battle poured, 
If, unfranchised by thy word, 
We are slaves to sin. 

Freedom without self-control 
Is but leave to wreck the soul, 
Passion-driven on pleasure's shoal, 
To the future blind. 

Freemen, then, by right of birth, 
Teach us, Lord, to prize the worth 
Of that richest gem of earth, 
Freedom of the mind. 



ORDINATION HYMN FOR A NEW SOCIETY. 

Written for the ordination of Mr. Samuel Barrett, as pastor of the Twelfth Congrega- 
tional Church, Boston, Feb. 9, 1825. 

A LL-GLORIOUS Lord of heaven and earth! 

When angels sang a Saviour's birth, 
" Glory to God ! " the song began : 
It closed with " Peace and Love to man." 

Glory to thee we give this day, 

That earthly heralds still convey, 

What angels sang from their bright spheres, 

Good news to our delighted ears. 

Eternal life they still proclaim, 
The gift and Giver still the same : 
The same the straight and narrow way, 
To know thy will, and to obey. 



JAMES FLINT. 27 

Grateful, this lately gathered band 
Of suppliants, Lord, before thee stand, 
And join their pastor's heart-breathed prayer, 
That they may grow beneath his care. 

Thy dews and sunshine swell the grain, 
Till ripened sheaves bend o'er the plain : 
So be thy Spirit largely given, 
And souls shall ripen here for heaven. 

All-glorious Lord of heaven and earth ! 
When angels sang a Saviour's birth, 
" Glory to God ! " the song began : 
It closed with " Peace and Love to man." 



The hymn, written by Dr. Flint, and inserted in his Collection, begin- 
ning, 

" : er life's pale wreck in loveliness," 

consists of the last five stanzas of one that was composed by him for the 
consecration of Harmony Grove Cemetery, at Salem, June 14, 1840. We 
present it here in its entire form : — 



HARMONY GROVE CEMETERY. 

"pROM Thee, O God, our spirits come, 

Enshrined in breathing clay ■ 
Mysterious guests, not here at home, 
Nor destined long to stay. 

Nature, from her maternal breast, 

Nurtures the living frame, 
Till summoned hence the stranger guest 

Returns to whence it came. 

When of its life-guest dispossessed, 
The appointed goal attained, 

Her bosom folds in dreamless rest 
The form her fruits sustained. 



28 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Be these sequestered haunts, of mound 

And slope, of dell and glade, 
Approached henceforth, as hallowed ground, 

Where life's pale wrecks are laid. 

Yet o'er these wrecks, in loveliness, 

These scenes shall yearly bloom ; 
Type of the soul's ethereal dress, 

Heaven-wrought beyond the tomb. 

Oh, why then mourn, that earth to earth, 

And dust to dust is given ? 
'Tis but the spirit's second birth, 

Its coronal for heaven. 

Though dear the dust, that once was warm 

With life the spirit gave, 
We dote not on the perished form, 

That moulders in the grave. 

We yield the body to its doom, 

The dust in dust to lie ; 
Yet we may deem beside the tomb 

The spirit hovering nigh. 

And oft our steps shall linger near, 

Till death the veil remove, 
And kindred spirits, sundered here, 

Be joined in deathless love. 

JOHN PIERPONT. 
(1785-1866.) 

Rev. John Pierpont was a descendant of John Pierpont, of Lon- 
don, who, having come to this country to see his two sons who had emi- 
grated before him, died in Ipswich, Mass., Dec. 7, 1682. One of these 
two sons, James Pierpont, who lived in Roxbury, Mass., and then in 
New Haven, Conn., was the grandfather of James Pierpont, who settled 



JOHN PIERPONT. 29 

in Litchfield, Conn., and there married Elizabeth Collins, by whom he 
had six children. The second of the six was the subject of our sketch. 
He was bom at Litchfield, April 6, 1785 ; graduated at Yale College, in 
1804 ; taught for a time in the Academy with Rev. Dr. Backus, and 
afterward in the family of Col. William Allston, of Charleston, S.C. ; 
returning home, studied law for several years, and then, in 18 12, went to 
Newburyport, Mass., where he was admitted to the bar. In 1814 he 
gave up this profession from conscientious scruples, and devoted him- 
self to literary and business pursuits ; first in Boston, and later in Balti- 
more, where he was a partner in the dry goods trade with John Neal, of 
Portland, and Joseph L. Lord, whose sister, Mary Sheldon Lord, he had 
married in Litchfield, in 1810. We next find him, some years later, a 
student of theology at the Cambridge Divinity School, at which he grad- 
uated, in 1818, in the class with Jared Sparks, John G. Palfrey, and 
others, who afterward attained to eminence. In 1819 he succeeded 
Rev. Dr. Holley, as pastor of the Hollis Street Church, Boston ; was 
settled over the Unitarian Society, at Troy, N.Y., in 1845, and over the 
parish in Medford, Mass., in 1849, remaining in charge of the latter until 
1859, when he retired from the active ministry, although he continued to 
supply pulpits from time to time as occasion offered. -' His wife died in 
1855, and in 1858 he was again married to Mrs. Louisa Campbell Fowler, 
of Dutchess County, N.Y. In 1861, soon after the outbreak of the war, 
he went into Virginia, as chaplain of the Massachusetts Regiment, enter- 
ing upon this service of country and liberty, though at the age of more 
than threescore years and ten, with wonderful zeal and heroism. The 
toils and risks required of him were too great for his increasing infirmi- 
ties, and he was obliged to return to more peaceful pursuits. In 1862, 
his friend, Secretary Chase, devolved upon him the labor of indexing the 
decisions of the Treasury Department at Washington. He lived to 
complete the vast work, executing the task with marvellous neatness 
and fidelity. He died suddenly, Aug. 27, 1866, while on a visit among 
his friends at Medford. 

Mr. Pierpont was of tall and handsome figure, was an admirable reader 
and an earnest, interesting speaker, a ready, logical, and powerful contro- 
versialist, and an indomitable champion of all the reforms of the day. 
His bold advocacy of the Temperance cause led, in 1838, to a pro- 
longed and exciting conflict between him and his church in Hollis 
Street, a committee of which requested him to resign. This he declined 
to do, and the matter was brought before an ecclesiastical tribunal, 
whose decision in 1841 was that he was not of right called upon to leave 
his pulpit, and whose protracted proceedings were afterward published 
in a volume. 

Not less valiant and faithful was his testimony against the sin and 
evils of slavery. In the pulpit and in conversation, in papers and 
magazines, in prose and poetry, he witnessed from first to last to this 
good confession ; and his burning, uncompromising words did much to 



30 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

swell the growing public sentiment that finally set free the oppressed. 
Keenly alive to every movement or enterprise that promised aid to 
human welfare, he was also deeply interested in prison discipline, popu- 
lar education, and other kindred matters, giving to each and all his 
hearty sympathy and support. 

His literary labors and productions were numerous, and of superior 
merit. His earliest extended poem, "The Portrait," was. read before the 
Washington Benevolent Society, of Newburyport, Oct. 27, 18 12. His 
"Airs of Palestine," which justly earned for him a high reputation as a 
poet, was first published in a small volume at Baltimore in 1816 ; and 
two other editions of it were issued in' Boston, in the following year. 
During his ministry in Boston, he prepared an admirable series of school- 
books, which passed through many editions, and were very widely used: 
"The American First Class Book," "The National Reader," "An In- 
troduction to the National Reader," "The Young Reader," and "The 
Little Learner." In 1835-36 he went abroad, and travelled in England, 
France, Italy, Asia Minor, and Greece, writing letters from Rome for the 
" Evening Gazette." In 1839 he edited an American reprint, with 
some changes, of Emily Taylor's volume of selected poems, entitled 
" Sabbath Recreations," and in 1840 published a Collection of his own 
poems, which included his "Airs of Palestine," and other pieces of con- 
siderable length ; a great number of hymns or odes for Christmas, and 
the Lord's Supper ; for Ordination, Installation, and Dedicatory Ser- 
vices, and Temperance and Anniversary Celebrations ; and a variety of 
brief, fugitive productions beside. From time to time during his active 
professional life, he gave to the press some of his more notable sermons, 
which, as they pertained chiefly to the more exciting subjects of the 
day, created a deep and wide interest in the community. 

Mr. Pierpont was one of the best hymn-writers of America. He was 
a genuine poet, as well as a powerful preacher and stern reformer. His 
imagination took a bold, strong wing, and his fine lyric verse was in- 
spired with the ardor and nobleness of his own great soul. Fiery as 
some of his pieces are in their rebuke and denunciation of injustice and 
cruelty, yet there are others which are remarkable for their tenderness 
and pathos, and betray the sweetness and love that lay hidden beneath 
his rugged face, and imperial, warlike manner. His songs as well as his 
sermons throb with intense devotion to truth and goodness, to country 
and humanity, and to that better Church of God, that is yet to be. 
From the volume of his poems, published in 1840, we take the following 
pieces : — 

MORNING HYMN. FOR A CHILD. 

r\ GOD, I thank thee that the night 
^-"^ In peace and rest hath passed away ; 
And that I see, in this fair light, 

My Father's smile, that makes it day. 



JOHN PIERPONT. 3 1 

Be thou my Guide, and let me live 

As under thine all-seeing eye ; 
Supply my wants, my sins forgive, 

And make me happy when I die. 



EVENING HYMN. FOR A CHILD. 

A NOTHER day its course hath run, 
■*"*■ And still, O God, thy child is blest ; 
For thou hast been by day my sun, 
And thou wilt be by night my rest. 

Sweet sleep descends, my eyes to close ; 

And now, when all the world is still, 
I give my body to repose, 

My spirit to my Father's will. 



WORKS OF MAN. 

Written for the Fifth Triennial Celebration of the Massachusetts Charitable Association, 
Oct. 4, 182 1. 

C PIRIT of Wisdom and of Power ! 

The works of Egypt's mightiest hour, — 

The pyramid and vaulted tomb, 
The peerless fane of David's Son, 
The giant towers of Babylon, — 

Old works of grandeur and of gloom ; 

The curtained ark, the jewelled vest 
That gleamed of old on Aaron's breast, — 

Works for their glorious beauty famed : 
All these, by thine informing mind, 
In strength were reared, with skill designed, 

And lead our thoughts to thee when named. 

Lone columns on the Ionian shore, 
And sculptured ruins scattered o'er 



32 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Athenian and Corinthian plains, 
Of thy departed spirit speak, 
That shed a glory round the Greek, 

And threw its last light on his chains. 

The conqueror's arch, the temple's dome, 
Of pagan and of Christian Rome, 

Thy kindling spirit taught to swell ; 
And many a tall monastic pile, 
Still frowning o'er our fathers' Isle, 

Of thy past inspirations tell. 

The arts that bid our navies ride 
And thunder o'er the trackless tide, 

The arts of dove-winged Peace are thine. 
Spirit of Wisdom and of Power ! 
Be thou our undecaying tower, 

And our adoring hearts thy shrine. 



WORKS OF GOD. 

Written for the same occasion as the last. 

1VTOW to the God to whom all might 
And glory in all worlds belong, 
Who fills, unseen, his throne of light, 
Come, let us sing a general song. 

His Spirit wrapped the mantling air, 
Of old, around our infant earth, 

And on her bosom, warm and fair, 
Gave her young lord his joyous birth. 

He smiles on morning's rosy way ; 

He paints the gorgeous clouds of even ; 
To noon he gives its ripening ray ; 

To night, the view of glorious heaven. 

He drives along those sparkling globes 

In circles of unerring truth ; 
He decks them all in radiant robes, 

And crowns them with eternal youth. 



JOHN PIERPONT. 33 

So will he crown the upright mind, 

When life and all its toils are o'er ; 
Then let his praise on every wind 

Rise till the winds shall wake do more. 



ORDINATION HYMN. 

Written for the Ordination of Mr. William Ware, as Pastor of the First Congregational 
Church in New York, Dec 18, 1821. 

r\ THOU, who art above all height ! 

Our God, our Father, and our Friend ! 
Beneath thy throne of love and light, 
We, thine adoring children, bend. 

We kneel in praise, that here is set 

A vine that by thy culture grew ; 
We kneel in prayer, that thou wouldst wet 

Its opening leaves with heavenly dew. 

Since thy young servant now hath given 
Himself, his powers, his hopes, his youth, 

To the great cause of truth and heaven, — 
Be thou his guide, O God of truth ! 

Here may his doctrines drop like rain, 
His speech like Hermon's dew distil, 

Till green fields smile, and golden grain, 
Ripe for the harvest, waits thy will. 

And when he sinks in death, — by care, 
Or pain, or toil, or years oppressed, — 

O God ! remember then our prayer, 
And take his spirit to thy rest. 

UNIVERSAL WORSHIP. 

Written for the opening of the Independent Congregational Church in Barton Square, 
Salem, Mass., Dec. 7, 1824. 

f~\ THOU, to whom, in ancient time, 

The lyre of Hebrew bards was strung, 
Whom kings adored in song sublime, 

And prophets praised with glowing tongue ! 
3 



34 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Not now on Zion's height alone 
Thy favored worshipper may dwell, 

Nor where, at sultry noon, thy Son 
Sat weary by the patriarch's well. 

From every place below the skies, 
The grateful song, the fervent prayer, 

The incense of the heart, may rise 

To heaven, and find acceptance there. 

In this, thy house, whose doors we now, 
For social worship, first unfold, 

To thee the suppliant throng shall bow, 
While circling years on years are rolled. 

To thee shall age, with snowy hair, 

And strength and beauty, bend the knee \ 

And childhood lisp, with reverent air, 
Its praises and its prayers to thee. 

O thou, to whom, in ancient time, 

The lyre of prophet bards was strung ! 

To thee at last, in every clime, 

Shall temples rise, and praise be sung. 



THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 

Written for the Anniversary of the Pilgrim Society, celebrated at Plymouth, 
Dec. 22, 1824. 

r I ^HE Pilgrim Fathers, — where are they ? 

The waves that brought them o'er 
Still roll in the bay, and throw their spray 

As they break along the shore ; 
Still roll in the bay, as they rolled that day 
- When the Mayflower moored below, 
When the sea around was black with storms, 
And white the shore with snow. 
Chorus. Still roll in the bay, as they rolled that day, &c. 



JOHN PIERPONT. 35 

The mists that wrapped the Pilgrim's sleep 

Still brood upon the tide ; 
And his rocks yet keep their watch by the deep 

To stay its waves of pride. 
But the snow-white sail that he gave to the gale, 

When the heavens looked dark, is gone, — 
As an angel's wing, through an opening cloud, 

Is seen, and then withdrawn. 

Chorus. It is gone from the bay, where it spread that 
day, &c. 

The Pilgrim exile, — sainted name ! 

The hill whose icy brow 
Rejoiced, when he came, in the morning's flame, 

In the morning's flame burns now. 
And the moon's cold light, as it lay that night 

On the hill-side and the sea, 
Still lies where he laid his houseless head, — 

But the Pilgrim ! where is he ? - 

Chorus. He is not in the bay, as he was that day, &c. 



The Pilgrim Fathers are at rest : 

When summer's throned on high, 
And the world's warm breast is in verdure drest, 

Go stand on the hill where they lie. 
The earliest ray of the golden day 

On that hallowed spot is cast ; 
And the evening sun, as he leaves the world, 

Looks kindly on that spot last. 

Chorus. Not such was the ray that he shed that day, &c. 

The Pilgrim spirit has not fled : 

It walks in noon's broad light ; 
And it watches the bed of the glorious dead, 

With the holy stars by night. 



36 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

It watches the bed of the brave who have bled, 
And shall guard this ice-bound shore, 

Till the waves of the bay, where the Mayflower lay, 
Shall foam and freeze no more. 

Chorus. It watches the bed of the brave who have bled, &c. 
THE STONE CHURCH AT QUINCY. 

Written for the Dedication of the New Stone Congregational Church, in Quincy, Nov. 
12, 1828. The allusion in the third stanza is to President John Adams, who had given 
to the parish the stone quarries in the town for the purpose of erecting this " Temple for 
the worship of God." In a chambered granite vault beneath the vestibule of this edifice 
repose the remains of President John Adams and John Quincy Adams, and of their 
honored consorts. 

TITHEN thy Son, O God, was sleeping, 

In death's rocky prison bound, 
When his faithful ones were weeping, 

And the guards were watching round, 
Then thy word, that strong house shaking, 

Rent the rocky bars away, 
And the holy sleeper, waking, 

Rose to meet the rising day. 

When thy word, by Jesus spoken, 

In its power is heard even now, 
Shake the hills, the rocks are broken, 

As on Calvary's trembling brow. 
From the bosom of the mountain, 

At that word, these stones have burst, 
And have gathered round the fountain 

Where our souls may quench their thirst. 

Here the water of salvation 

Long hath gushed, a liberal wave ; 
Here a Father of our nation 

Drank, and felt the strength it gave. 
Here he sleeps, his bed how lowly ! 

But his aim and trust were high ; 
And his memory, — that is holy ; 

And his name, — it cannot die. 



JOHN PIERPONT. 3/ 

While beneath this temple's portal 

Rest the relics of the just, 
While the light of hope immortal . 

Shines above his sacred dust, 
While the well of life its waters 

To the weary here shall give, 
Father, may thy sons and daughters, 

Kneeling round it, drink and live. 



SETTLEMENT OF BOSTON. 

Written for the Second Centennial Celebration of the Settlement of Boston, Sept. 17, 1830. 

DREAK forth in song, ye trees, 

As through your tops the breeze 

Sweeps from the sea ; 
For, on its rushing wings, 
To your cool shades and springs, 
That breeze a people brings, 

Exiled though free. 

Ye sister hills, lay down 
Of ancient oaks your crown, 

In homage due : 
These are the great of earth, 
Great not by kingly birth, 
Great in their well-proved worth. 

Firm hearts and true. 

These are the living lights, 

That from your bold, green heights, 

Shall shine afar, 
Till they who name the name 
Of Freedom, toward the flame 
Come, as the Magi came 

Toward Bethlehem's star. 



38 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Gone are those great and good 
Who here, in peril, stood 

And raised their hymn. 
Peace to the reverend dead ; 
The light, that on their head 
Two hundred years have shed, 

Shall ne'er grow dim. 

Ye temples, that to God 
Rise where our fathers trod, 

Guard well your trust, — 
The faith, that dared the sea, 
The truth, that made them free, 
Their cherished purity, 

Their garnered dust. 

Thou high and holy One, 
Whose care for sire and son 

All nature fills, 
While day shall break and close, 
While night her crescent shows, 
Oh, let thy light repose 

On these our hills. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

Written for the Celebration of the Centennial Anniversary of the Birthday of Wash- 
ington, Boston, Feb. 22, 1832. 

/ T > Thee, beneath whose eye 
Each circling century 

Obedient rolls, 
Our nation, in its prime, 
Looked with a faith sublime, 
And trusted, in " the time 

That tried men's souls," — 

When, from this * gate of heaven, 
People and priest were driven 

* The Old South Church was taken possession of by the British, while they 
held Boston, and converted into barracks for the cavalry, the pews being cut up 
for fuel, or used in constructing stalls for their horses. 



JOHN PIERPONT. 39 

By fire and sword, 
And, where thy saints had prayed, 
The harnessed war-horse neighed, 
And horsemen's trumpets brayed 

In harsh accord. 

Nor was our fathers' trust, 
Thou mighty One, and just, 

Then put to shame : 
" Up to the hills " for light, 
Looked they in peril's night, 
And, from yon guardian height,* 

Deliverance came. 

There like an angel form, 
Sent down to still the storm, 

Stood Washington : 
Clouds broke and roiled away ; 
Foes fled in pale dismay • 
Wreathed were his brows with bay, 

When war was done. 

God of our sires and sons, 
Let other Washingtons 

Our country bless, 
And, like the brave and wise 
Of by-gone centuries, 
Show that true greatness lies 

In righteousness. 



TEMPERANCE HYMN. 

Written for the simultaneous Temperance Meeting, in the Old South Church in Boston, 
Feb. 22, 1835. 

'T^HOU sparkling bowl ! thou sparkling bowl ! 
Though lips of bards thy brim may press, 
And eyes of beauty o'er thee roll, 

And song and dance thy power confess, 

* From his position on Dorchester Heights, that overlook the town, General 
Washington succeeded in compelling the British forces to evacuate Boston. 



40 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

I will not touch thee ; for there clings 
A scorpion to thy side, that stings ! 

Thou crystal glass ! like Eden's tree, 
Thy melted ruby tempts the eye, 

And, as from that, there comes from thee 
The voice, " Thou shalt not surely die." 

I dare not lift thy liquid gem ; 

A snake is twisted round thy stem ! 

Thou liquid fire ! like that which glowed 
On Melita's surf-beaten shore, 

Thou'st been upon my guests bestowed, 
But thou shalt warm my house no more ; 

For, wheresoe'er thy radiance falls, 

Forth from thy heart a viper crawls ! 

What though of gold the goblet be, 
Embossed with branches of the vine, 

Beneath whose burnished leaves we see 
Such clusters as poured out the wine ? 

Among those leaves an adder hangs ! 

I fear him ; for I've felt his fangs. 

The Hebrew, who the desert trod, 
And felt the fiery serpent's bite, 

Looked up to that ordained of God, 
And found that life was in the sight. 

So, the worm-bitten' s fiery- veins 

Cool, when he drinks what God ordains. 



Ye gracious clouds ! ye deep, cold wells ! 

Ye gems, from mossy rocks that drip ! 
Springs, that from earth's mysterious cells 

Gush o'er your granite basin's lip ! 
To you I look : your largess give, 
And I will drink of you, and live. 



JOHN PIERPONT. 41 



CHARLES FOLLEN. 

Written for the funeral service in commemoration of the life and character of Charles 
Follen, before the Massachusetts Anti-Slavery Society, April 17, 1S40. 

(^)H, not for thee we weep ; we weep 
^^^ For her, whose love and long caress, 
And widow's tears, from fountains deep, 
Fall on the early fatherless. 

'Tis for ourselves we mourn ; we mourn 
Our blighted hopes, our wishes crossed, 

Thy strength that hath our burdens borne, 
Thy love, thy smile, thy counsels lost. 

'Tis for the slave we sigh • we sigh 

To think thou sleepest on a shore 
Where thy calm voice and beaming eye 

Shall plead the bondman's cause no more. 

'Tis for our land we grieve ; we grieve 
That Freedom's fane, Devotion's shrine, 

And Faith's fresh altar, thou should'st leave, 
And they all lose a soul like thine. 

A soul like thine, — so true a soul, — 

Wife, friends, our land, the world, must miss ; 

The waters o'er thy corse may roll, 
But thy pure spirit is in bliss. 



MY FATHER, MOTHER, BROTHERS, SISTERS. 

This is the title of a poem of sixteen verses, which is in the author's most tender and 
beautiful vein. We give only the first four. 

'T^HEY are all gone but one, — 
A daughter and a son 
Were, from my parents, early taken away ; 
And my own childhood's joy 
Was darkened when, a boy, 
I saw them, in their coffins as they lay. 



42 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

To manhood had I grown ; 

And children of my own 
Were gathering round me, when my mother died. 

I saw not her cold clay, 

When it was borne away 
And buried by her little children's side, 

Beneath the now green sod. 

She led me first to God : 
Her words and prayers were my young spirit's dew. 

For, when she used to leave 

The fireside every eve, 
I knew that it was for prayer that she* withdrew. 

That dew, that blessed my youth, — 

Her holy love, her truth, 
Her spirit of devotion, and the tears 

That she could not suppress, — 

Hath never ceased to bless 
My soul, nor will it, through eternal years. 



HYMN OF THE LAST SUPPER. 

And when they had sung a hymn, they went out into the Mount of Olives." — Matthew 

xxvi. 30. 

/ T V HE winds are hushed ; the peaceful moon 

Looks down on Zion's hill ; 
The city sleeps ; 'tis night's calm noon, 
And all the streets are still. 

Save when, along the shaded walks, 

We hear the watchman's call, 
Or the guard's footsteps, as he stalks 

In moonlight on the wall. 



How soft, how holy, is this light ! 

And hark ! a mournful song, 
As gentle as these dews of night, 

Floats on the air along. 



JOHN PIERPONT. 43 

Affection's wish, devotion's prayer, 

Are in that holy strain ; 
'Tis resignation, not despair, 

'Tis triumph, though 'tis pain. 

'Tis Jesus and his faithful few 
That pour that hymn of love ; 

O God ! may we the song renew 
Around thy board above ! 

REMEMBRANCE OF CHRIST. 

/^\UR Father, we approach thy board, 
^^^ As children that would be forgiven ; 
Remembering him, thy Son, who poured 
His blood, to seal our hope of heaven. 

O God, our Saviour ! while we thus 

Remember him who made us free, 
Who agonized and died for us, 

Our grateful hearts would rise to thee. 

In him, whose bursting heart the cloud 
Of sorrow chilled, and wretchedness ; 

In him, whose fainting head was bowed 
In his unspeakable distress ; 

Oh, listen to our fervent prayer : 

That he, who hung on Calvary's hill, 

And gave thee back his spirit there, 
May live in our affections still. 

HE IS NOT THERE. 

A part of an exquisitely touching and beautiful poem of ten stanzas, originally printed 
in the " Monthly Miscellany," October, 1840. Like the two pieces which follow it, it is not 
found in the volume of poems. 

T CANNOT make him dead : 
His fair sunshiny head 
Is ever bounding round my study chair ; 

Yet when my eyes, now dim 

With tears, I turn to him, 
The vision vanishes, — he is not there ! 



44 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Not there ; — where, then, is he ? 

The form I used to see 
Was but the raiment that he used to wear. 

The grave, that now doth press 

Upon that cast-off dress, 
Is but his wardrobe locked ; — he is not there ! 

He lives, — in all the past 

He lives ; nor to the last, 
Of seeing him again will I despair. 

In dreams I see him now ; 

And, on his angel brow, 
I see it written, " Thou shalt see me there." 

Yes, we all live to God ; 

Father, thy chastening rod 
So help us, thine afflicted ones, to bear, 

That, in the spirit land, 

Meeting at thy right hand, 
'Twill be our heaven to find that — he is there. 



The following hymn was written by Mr. Pierpont for the consecra- 
tion of the burial-grounds of the Church of the Saviour, Brooklyn, 
N.Y. They are situated on a noble eminence in Greenwood Cemetery, 
are shaded by a variety of ornamental trees, and are surrounded with 
much of the beauty and loveliness that reign in that city of the dead. 
The poet, in his frequent visits among his relatives in Brooklyn, the 
family of the late Joseph L. Lord, was often called upon to exercise his 
gift for our Unitarian friends there, on special public occasions. His 
pen was ever ready for the service ; and it is in illustration of the 
marvellous facility and success with which he was wont to respond to 
all such requests, that, as Rev. Dr. Farley, then pastor of the Church, 
informs us, he composed these lines in an incredibly short space of 
time. 

CONSECRATION AT GREENWOOD CEMETERY. 

f^\ GOD, beneath this Greenwood shade, 

Beneath this blue autumnal sky, 
Would we, by those we love, be laid, 
Whene'er it is our time to die. 



JOHN PIERPONT. 45 

The glory of this woodland scene, 

These leaves that came at summer's call, 

These leaves, so lately young and green, 
Even now begin to fade and fall. 

So shall we fade and fall, at length ; 

Youth's blooming cheek, the silvery hair 
Of reverend age, and manhood's strength, 

Shall here repose : Then hear our prayer, 

O Thou, who, by Thy Son, hast said, 

From fear of death to set us free, 
" God is a God, not of the dead," — 

That we, for aye, may live in Thee ! 



"E PLURIBUS UNUM/' 

Written during the war for the preservation of the Union. 

'"PHE harp of the minstrel with melody rings, 

When the Muses have taught him to touch and to tune 
it; 
Arfi though he may have a full octave of strings, 
To both maker and minstrel the harp is a unit. 
So the power that creates 
Our republic of States, 
To harmony attunes them at different dates ; 
And, many or few, when the Union is done, 
Be they thirteen or thirty, the Nation is one. 

The science that measures and numbers the spheres, 
And has done so since first the Chaldean began it, 
Now and then as she counts them, and measures their years, 
Brings into our system and names a new planet. 
Yet the old and new stars, 
Venus, Neptune, and Mars, 
As they drive round the sun their invisible cars, 
Whether faster or slower their races are run, 
Are " E Pluribus Unum," — of many made one. 






46 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Of those federate spheres should but one fly the track, 

Or with others conspire for a general dispersion, 
By the great central orb they would all be brought back, 
And held, each in its place, by a wholesome "coercion." 
Were one daughter of light 
Indulged in her flight, 
They might all be engulfed by old Chaos and Night ; 
So must none of our sisters be suffered to run, 
For, " E Pluribus Unum," — we all go, if one. 

Let the Demon of Discord our melody mar, 

Or Treason's red hand rend our system asunder, 
Break one string from our harp, or extinguish one star, 
The whole system's ablaze with its lightning and thunder. 
Let that discord be hushed ; 
Let the traitors be crushed, 
Though " Legion ' T their name, all with victory flushed ; 
For aye must our motto stand, fronting the sun, 
" E Pluribus Unum," — the many are one. 

Among the numerous hymns written by Mr. Pierpont, after the pub- 
lication of his volume of poems in 1840, there are, beside those which 
we have copied above, some whose first lines are as follows : " Robed in 
sackcloth, dark and deep," 1841 ; "The bloom of spring, at last, has 
come," 1843 > " The dead ! the reverend dead ! " 1843 ; " Sacred to 
Thee, Eternal One," 1848; "God of the rolling year," 1849; "To thee; 
O God, in humble trust," 1850 ; " Glad hearts, O God, we bring," 1855 ; 
" On, 'mid the starry spheres," 1858. 

ANDREWS NORTON. 

(1786-1853.) 

Andrews Norton, the youngest child of Samuel and Jane Norton, 
was born at Hingham. Mass., Dec. 31, 1786. He completed his pre- 
paratory studies at the Derby Academy in that town, and entered the 
Sophomore class in Harvard College in 1801, graduating in 1804. Hav- 
ing afterward spent a considerable time at Cambridge, and at Hingham, 
in a course of literary and theological study, he preached for a few weeks 
in Augusta, Me., in 1809, and then was a tutor for a year in Bowdoin 



ANDREWS NORTON. 47 

College. For another year he was tutor in Mathematics in Harvr.rd 
College; in i8i3\vas appointed Librarian, and subsequently Lecturer on 
Biblical Criticism and Interpretation, meanwhile preaching in various 
pulpits in Boston and other places. On the establishment of the Theo- 
logical School in Cambridge, in 1819, Mr. Norton was chosen its Dexter 
Professor of Sacred Literature, and occupied the position until 1830. 
He continued his residence at that seat of learning for the remainder of 
his life, passing his time in scholarly retirement, and giving to the press 
at intervals the results of his able, careful, and conscientious thought and 
investigations. He died at Newport, R.I., Sept. 18, 1853. 

In 1812 he became editor of the "General Repository and Review," 
in the interest of the more liberal views of Christianity which had begun 
to prevail among the churches. In 1826 he collected and republished 
the poetry of Mrs. Hemans, for which he had a high admiration, and 
in 1827 he sailed for Europe. In 1833 he published his well-known 
"Statement of Reasons for not believing the Doctrines of Trinitarians 
concerning the Nature of God and the Person of Christ ; " and in 1833- 
34 he was associated with Charles Folsom, Esq., in editing "The Select 
Journal of Foreign Periodical Literature." The first volume of his great 
work, "The Genuineness of the Gospels," appeared in 1837 ; the second 
and third volumes, in 1844 ; and his " Tracts on Christianity," in 1852. 
His fourth volume on the "Genuineness of the Gospels," and his 
"Translation of the Gospels," were both published after his death, 
though in an incomplete form. His books, lectures, pamphlet discourses, 
and literary and theological magazine contributions, were marked by 
great ability and learning, and exerted a wide and powerful influence 
in moulding opinion and thought in his day. This eminent Christian 
teacher was not only a distinguished scholar, controversialist, and critic, 
but one of the finest of poets as well. Rev. William Newell, D.D., in an 
article in the " Christian Examiner," November, 1853, writes : "The few 
specimens which he has left behind are gems of rare lustre, finished of 
their kind." These, just after his death, were printed in a small volume, 
from which we copy the following pieces, indicating also where and 
when most of them were originally published. 



TRUST AND SUBMISSION. 

" Monthly Anthology and Boston Review," September, 1809. 

A/TY God, I thank thee ; may no thought 
"*" E'er deem thy chastisements severe ; 

But may this heart, by sorrow taught, 
Calm each wild wish, each idle fear. 



48 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Thy mercy bids all nature bloom ; 

The sun shines bright, and man is gay ; 
Thine equal mercy spreads the gloom, 

That darkens o'er his little day. 

Full many a throb of grief and pain 
Thy frail and erring child must know ; 

But not one prayer is breathed in vain, 
Nor does one tear unheeded flow. 

Thy various messengers employ, 
Thy purposes of love fulfil ; 

And, 'mid the wreck of human joy, 
Let kneeling faith adore thy will. 



THE DEATH OF A YOUNG FRIEND. 

" General Repository and Review," April, 1812. 

/^H, stay thy tears ; for they are blest, 

Whose days are past, whose toil is done : 
Here midnight care disturbs our rest ; 
Here sorrow dims the noonday sun. 

For laboring Virtue's anxious toil, 

For patient Sorrow's stifled sigh, 
For Faith that marks the conqueror's spoil, 

Heaven grants the recompense — to die. 

How blest are they whose transient years 
Pass like an evening meteor's flight ! • 

Not dark with guilt, nor dim with tears ; 
Whose course is short, unclouded, bright. 

Oh, cheerless were our lengthened way, 

Did Heaven's own light not break the gloom, 

Stream downward from eternal day, 
And cast a glory round the tomb. 



* 



' ANDREWS NORTON. 49 

Oh, stay thy tears : the blest above 
Have hailed a spirit's heavenly birth, 

Sung a new song of joy and love ; 

And why should anguish reign on earth ? 



WRITTEN AFTER A SUMMER SHOWER. 

" Christian Disciple," March and April No., 1819. 

r I A HE rain is o'er, — how dense and bright 

Yon pearly clouds, reposing lie ! 
Cloud above cloud, a glorious sight, 
Contrasting with the deep blue sky ! 

In grateful silence earth receives 

The general blessing ; fresh and fair, 

Each flower expands its little leaves, 
As glad the common joy to share. 

The softened sunbeams pour around 

A fairy light, uncertain, pale ; 
The wind flows cool, the scented ground 

Is breathing odors on the gale. 

'Mid yon rich clouds' voluptuous pile, 

Methinks some spirit of the air 
Might rest to gaze below awhile, 

Then turn to bathe and revel there. 

The sun breaks forth, — from off the scene, 
Its floating veil of mist is flung ; 

And all the wilderness of green 

With trembling drops of light is hung. 

Now gaze on nature, — yet the same, 
Glowing with life, by breezes fanned, 

Luxuriant, lovely, as she came 

Fresh in her youth from God's own hand. 
4 



50 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Hear the rich music of that voice, 

Which sounds from all, below, above ; 

She calls her children to rejoice, 

And round them throws her arms of love. 

Drink in her influence : low-born care, 
And all the train of mean desire, 

Refuse to breathe this holy air, 
And in this living light expire. 



THE PARTING. 

" Christian Examiner," January and February No., 1824. 

TiyE did not part as others part ; 

And should we meet on earth no more, 
Yet deep and dear within my heart 

Some thoughts will rest, a treasured store. 

How oft, when weary and alone, 

Have I recalled each word, each look, 

The meaning of each varying tone, 
And the last parting glance we took ! 

Yes, sometimes even here are found 

Those who can touch the chords of love, 

And wake a glad and holy sound, 

Like that which fills the courts above. 

It is as when a traveller hears, 

In a strange land, his native tongue, 

A voice he loved in happier years, 
A song which once his mother sung. 

We part : the sea may roll between, 

While we through different climates roam ; 

Sad days — a life — may intervene ; 
But we shall meet again — -at home. 



ANDREWS NORTON. 5 1 

FORTITUDE. 

" Christian Disciple," July and August No., 1822. 

"pAINT not, poor traveller, though thy way 

Be rough, like that thy Saviour trod ; 
Though cold and stormy lower the day, 
This path of suffering leads to God. 

Nay, sink not, though from every limb 

Are starting drops of toil and pain ; 
Thou dost but share the lot of Him, 

With whom his followers are to reign. 

Thy friends are gone, and thou, alone, 

Must bear the sorrows that assail ; 
Look upward to the eternal throne, 

And know a Friend who cannot fail. 

Bear firmly : yet a few more days, 

And thy hard trial will be past ; 
Then, wrapt in glory's opening blaze, 

Thy feet shall rest on heaven at last. 

Christian ! thy Friend, thy Master prayed, 
When dread and anguish shook his frame ; 

Then met his sufferings undismayed, — 
Wilt thou not strive to do the same ? 

Oh ! think'st thou that his Father's love 
Shone round him then with fainter rays 

Than now, when, throned all height above, 
Unceasing voices hymn his praise ? 

Go, sufferer ! calmly meet the woes 

W T hich God's own mercy bids thee bear ; 

Then, rising, as thy Saviour rose, 
Go ! his eternal victory share. 



52 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



H 



FUNERAL HYMN. 

" Christian Examiner," January and February No., 1824. 

E has gone to his God, he has gone to his home 
No more amid peril and error to roam. 
His eyes are no longer dim, 

His feet no more will falter ; 
No grief can follow him, 

No pang his cheek can alter. 

There are paleness, and weeping, and sighs below ; 
For our faith is faint, and our tears will flow ; 
But the harps of heaven are ringing, 

Glad angels come to greet him, 
And hymns of joy are singing, 

While old friends press to meet him. 

O honored, beloved ! to earth unconfined, 
Thou hast soared on high, thou hast left us behind ; 
But our parting is not for ever. 

We will follow thee by heaven's light, 
Where the grave cannot dissever 
The souls whom God will unite. 



ON THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR. 

" Christian Examiner," Nov. and Dec No., 1827. 

A NOTHER year ! another year ! 

The unceasing rush of time sweeps on ; 
Whelmed in its surges, disappear 

Man's hopes and fears, for ever gone. 

Oh, no ! forbear that idle tale ; 

The hour demands another strain, — ■ 
Demands high thoughts that cannot quail, 

And strength to conquer and retain. 



ANDREWS NORTON. 53 

'Tis midnight. From the dark-blue sky 
The stars, which now look down on earth, 

Have seen ten thousand centuries fly, 
And give to countless changes birth. 

And when the pyramids shall fall, 

And, mouldering, mix as dust in air, 
The dwellers on this altered ball 

May still behold them glorious there. 

Shine on ! shine on ! — with you I tread 

The march of ages, orbs of light ! 
A last eclipse o'er you may spread ; 

To me, to me, there comes no night. 

Oh ! what concerns it him whose way 

Lies upward to the immortal dead, 
That a few hairs are turning gray, 

Or one more year of life has fled ? 

Swift years ! but teach me how to bear, 
To feel and act with strength and skill, 

To reason wisely, nobly dare, 

And speed your courses as you will. 

When life's meridian toils are done, 

How calm, how rich the twilight glow, — 

The morning twilight of a sun 

That shines not here on things below ! 

But sorrow, sickness, death, the pain 

To leave or lose, wife, children, friends, — 

What then ? Shall we not meet again, 
Where parting comes not, sorrow ends ? 

The fondness of a parent's care, 

The changeless trust which woman gives, 

The smile of childhood, — it is there 
That all we love in them still lives. 



54 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Press onward through each varying hour ; 

Let no weak fears thy course delay : 
Immortal being ! feel thy power, 

Pursue thy bright and endless way. 



HYMN FOR THE DEDICATION OF A CHURCH. 

T17HERE ancient forests round us spread, 
Where bends the cataract's ocean-fall, 
On the lone mountain's silent head, 
There are thy temples, God of all ! 

Beneath the dark-blue midnight arch, 

Whence myriad suns pour down their rays, 

Where planets trace their ceaseless march, 
Father ! we worship as we gaze. 

The tombs thy altars are ; for there, 

When earthly loves and hopes have fled, 

To thee ascends the spirit's prayer, 
Thou God of the immortal dead ! 

All space is holy ; for all space 

Is filled by thee ; but human thought 

Burns clearer in some chosen place, 

Where thy own words of love are taught. 

Here be they taught ; and may we know 

That faith thy servants knew of old, 
Which onward bears through weal and woe, 

Till Death the gates of heaven unfold. 

Nor we alone : may those whose brow 

Shows yet no trace of human cares, 
Hereafter stand where we do now, 

And raise to thee still holier prayers. 
1833. 



ELIZA LEE FOLLEN. 55 

ELIZA LEE FOLLEN. 

(1787-1860.) 

Mrs. Eliza Lee Follen, daughter of Samuel and Sarah Cabot, was 
born in Boston, Aug. 15, 1787. In her early life she contributed various 
pieces of prose and poetry to the papers and magazines. In 1828 she 
was married to Prof. Charles Follen, the eminent exiled friend of civil 
and religious liberty, who came to this country in 1825, and was for some 
years a teacher of the German Language and of Ecclesiastical History and 
Ethics at Cambridge, and was afterward the pastor of the Unitarian So- 
ciety at East Lexington. While minister of this church, he perished on 
board the ill-fated " Lexington," which was burned on Long Island Sound, 
Jan. 13, 1840. During more than thirty years of her married life, she pub- 
lished, at intervals, a variety of popular and useful books, all of which 
were characterized by her well-known purity of taste and sentiment, and 
by her elevated Christian piety. Among the works she gave to the press 
are, " Selections from Fenelon," " The Well-spent Hour," "Words of 
Truth," "The Sceptic," "Married Life," "Little Songs," "Poems," 
"Life of Charles Follen," "Twilight Stories," " Second Series of Little 
Songs," a compilation of "Home Dramas," "German Fairy Tales." 
In her deep interest in the reiigious instruction of the young, she edited, 
in 1829, the "Christian Teacher's Manual," and, from 1843 to 1850, the 
" Child's Friend." She died in Brookline, Mass., Jan. 26, i860. 

From the volume of " Poems," published in 1S39, we copy some of 
her hymns, several of which have found a place in various church Col- 
lections. 

SABBATH DAY. 

"LTOW sweet, upon this sacred day, 

The best of all the seven, 
To cast our earthly thoughts away, 
And think of God and heaven ! 

How sweet to be allowed to pray 

Our sins may be forgiven ! 
With filial confidence to say, 

" Father, who art in heaven ! " 



56 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

With humble, hope to bend the knee, 
And, free from folly's leaven, 

Confess that we have strayed from thee, 
Thou righteous Judge in heaven. 

And if, to make all sin depart, 
In vain the will has striven, 

He who regards the inmost heart 
Will send his grace from heaven. 

If, from the bosom that is dear, 
By cold unkindness driven, 

The heart, that knows no refuge here, 
Shall find a friend in heaven ; — 

Then hail, thou sacred, blessed day, 
The best of all the seven, 

When hearts unite their vows to pay 
Of gratitude to Heaven ! 



SUNSET ON THE HILLS. 

TT is the gentle evening hour, 

And, see, the shades are lengthening fast ; 
My spirit feels its softening power, 

And troubles, with the day, have passed. 

In quiet beauty, fixed repose, 

The hills, like guardians of the land, 

Catch the last sunbeam as it glows, 
And bright in tranquil grandeur stand. 

All, all is beauty, love, and peace ; 

Mysterious longings heave and swell 
Within my soul, and shall not cease, 

Till a like glory there shall dwell. 



ELIZA LEE FOLLEN. $7 



"TO WHOM SHALL WE GO?" 

"VX 7HEN our purest delights are nipt in the blossom, 

When those we love best are laid low, 
When grief plants in secret her thorns in the bosom, 
Deserted, " To whom shall we go ? " 

When error bewilders, and our path becomes dreary, 

And tears of despondency flow ; 
When the whole head is sick, and the whole heart is weary, 

Despairing, " To whom shall we go ? " 

When the sad, thirsty spirit turns from the springs 

Of enchantment this life can bestow, 
And sighs for another, and flutters its wings, 

Impatient, " To whom shall we go ? " 

Oh ! blest be that light which has parted the clouds, 

A path to the pilgrim to show, 
That pierces the veil which the future enshrouds, 

And shows us to whom we may go. 



HYMN OF PRAISE. 

T3RAISE to God ! oh, let us raise 

From our hearts a song of praise ; 
Of that goodness let us sing, 
Whence our lives and blessings spring. 

Praise to him who made the light ; 
Praise to him who gave us sight ; 
Praise to him who formed the ear ; 
Will he not his children hear ? 

Praise him for our happy hours ; 
Praise him for our varied powers ; 
For these thoughts that rise above, 
For these hearts he made for love. 



58 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

For the voice he placed within, 
Bearing witness when we sin ; 
Praise to him whose tender care 
Keeps this watchful guardian there. 

Praise to his mercy, that did send 
Jesus for our guide and friend ; 
Praise him, every heart and voice, 
Him who makes all worlds rejoice. 



WE NEVER PART FROM THEE. 

/^OD, who dwellest everywhere, 

God, who makest all thy care, 
God, who hearest every prayer, 

Thou who seest the heart, — ■ 
Thou, to whom we lift our eyes, 
Father, help our souls to rise, 
And, beyond these narrow skies, 

See thee as thou art. 

Let our anxious thoughts be still, 
Holy trust adore thy will, 
Holy love our bosoms fill ; 

Let our songs ascend. 
Dearest friends may parted be, 
All our earthly treasures flee, 
Yet we never part from thee, 

Our eternal Friend. 



ON PRAYER. 

A S through the pathless fields of air 

Once wandered forth the timid dove, 
So does the heart, in humble prayer, 
Essay to reach the throne of love. 



ELIZA LEE FOLLEN. 59 

Like her, it may return unblest ; 

Like her, again may soar ; 
And still return and find no rest, 

No peaceful, happy shore. 

But now once more she spreads her wings, 

And takes a bolder flight, — 
And, see ! the olive-branch she brings, 

To bless her master's sight. 

And thus the heart renews its strength, 

Though spent and tempest-driven ; 
And higher soars, and brings, at length, 

A pledge of peace with Heaven. 



THE TWENTY-NINTH PSALM. 

TN the beauty of holiness worship the Lord ; 

Exalt him, ye nations, and bow to his word ; 
Ye mighty, his power and wisdom proclaim, 
And give him the glory due unto his name.. 

It is he that we hear in the storm's wild commotion ; 
And the voice of the Lord is on the wide ocean • 
The cedars of Lebanon bow at his voice, 
While men in his temple adore and rejoice. 

'Tis the Lord in the deep-rolling thunder we hear, 
While the untrodden wilderness trembles with fear \ 
O'er the high-tossing billows unseen is his way ; 
Him the floods, and the flames, and the whirlwinds obey. 

He spreads o'er his people the wings of his love, 
And gives them the peace which descends from above : 
Then give him the glory and praise evennore, 
And join with all nature his name to adore. * 



60 SQNGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



GOODNESS OF GOD. 

/^OD, thou art good ! each perfumed flower, 

The waving field, the dark green wood, 
The insect fluttering for an hour, — 
All things proclaim that God is good. 

I hear it in each breath of wind ; 

The hills that have for ages stood, 
And clouds, with gold and silver lined, 

All still repeat that God is good. 

Each little rill, that many a year 

Has the same verdant path pursued, 

And every bird, in accents clear, 
Joins in the song that God is good. 

The restless sea, with haughty roar, 
Calms each wild wave and billow rude, 

Retreats submissive from the shore, 
And swells the chorus, " God is good." 

The countless hosts of twinkling stars, 
That sing his praise with light renewed ; 

The rising sun each day declares, 
In rays of glory, God is good. 

The moon, that walks in brightness, says 
That God is good ! and man, endued 

With power to speak his Maker's praise, 
Should still repeat that God is good. 



"THY WILL BE DONE." 

" Christian Disciple," Sept. 1818. 

TTOW sweet to be allowed to pray 
- n To God, the Holy One ; 
With filial love and trust to say, 
Father, thy will be done ! 



SARAH W. LIVERMORE. 6 1 

We in these sacred words can find 

A cure for every ill ; 
They calm and soothe the troubled mind, 

And bid all care be still. 

Oh, let that will, which gave me breath 

And an immortal soul, 
In joy or grief, in life or death, 

My every wish control ! 

Oh, could my heart thus ever pray, 

Thus imitate thy Son ! 
Teach me, O God, with truth to say : 
" Thy will, not mine, be done." 

SARAH W. LIVERMORE. 

(1789-1874) 

Sarah White Livermore was born in Wilton, N.H., July 20, 1789, 
and was the daughter of Rev. Jonathan Livermore, who was settled as the 
first minister of that town, Dec. 14, 1763. Having faithfully improved 
the limited advantages of her early life, she became, while still young, a 
very successful teacher of common schools. About the year 1843, sne 
established a self-supporting boarding-school at the Livermore Mansion 
in Wilton. After a few years, however, she was obliged to relinquish 
the care of it on account of ill-health. Her interest in the welfare of 
children manifested itself in efforts for their religious as well as their 
secular instruction. She was greatly instrumental in establishing, in her 
native town, one of the first Sunday-schools in the country. It was in 
successful operation as long ago as 1816, — the year when, as we are 
told by Mr. Lewis G. Pray, in his " History of Sunday-Schools," these 
institutions began to take the form of a voluntary and improved system. 

Miss Livermore, having a natural talent and taste for po'etic composi- 
tion, was often called upon, during her long life, to write verses for a 
great variety of occasions. These have never been collected and pub- 
lished, though not a few of them have been printed for use in connection 
with ordination or dedicatory services, or commemorative or festive cele- 
brations. She died in Wilton, July 3, 1874, having nearly completed 
her eighty-fifth year. Of the four hymns which we copy, the first two 
are, one or both, in several of our Collections, and are here taken from 
the book of "Christian Hymns," compiled by a committee of the Che- 
shire Pastoral Association. The other two are not so well known. 



62 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



THE COMING OF CHRIST. 

/^LORY to God, and peace on earth, 

Was once by angels sung ; 
Glad tidings of a Saviour's birth 
Through plains of Bethlehem rung. 

He came to make the feeble strong, 

To heal the deaf and blind, 
To give the dumb the voice of song, 

And free the captive mind. 

He came the light of life to show, 

The true and living way ; 
Where streams of joy unceasing flow, 

And lead to endless day. 

Glory to God ! the gospel's sound 

Our churches echo still ; 
Spread it, O Lord, the world around, 

And with its spirit fill. 

Glory to God ! our hearts acclaim ; 

Oh, baste the happy time, 
When songs shall sound the Saviour's name 

O'er every distant clime ! 



THE WESTERN CHURCHES. 

/^~\UR pilgrim brethren dwelling far, — 
^^^ O God of truth and love, 
Light thou their path with thine own star, 
Bright beaming from above. 



SARAH W. LIVERMORE. 6$ 

Wide as their mighty rivers flow, 

Let thine own truth extend ; 
Where prairies spread and forests grow, 

O Lord, thy gospel send ! 

Then will a mighty nation own 

A union firm and strong ; 
The sceptre of the eternal throne 

Shall rule its councils long. 



The following hymn was written by Miss Livermore for the ordina- 
tion of her nephew, Rev. A. A. Livermore (now President of the Theo- 
logical School, Meadville, Pa.), at Keene, N.H., Nov. 2, 1836 : — 



HYMN FOR ORDINATION. 

A WAKE, O church ! thy strength put on ; 
In holy garments be thou clad ; 
We come, thou High and Holy One, 
With songs of praise and voices glad. 

As followers of thy Son, we bow 

Before thy throne in fervent prayer ; 

Thy gracious presence grant us now, 
And be this flock thy constant care. 

To him, who in the bloom of youth 
Comes with desire to do thy will, 

Oh, grant thy spirit and thy truth, 
And be his guide and guardian still. 

Oh, may the gospel's gracious call 
Greet with kind accents every ear ; 

Its precepts be a guide to all, — 

To him who speaks and those who hear. 



64 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Here may the hopeless wanderer come ; 

Here may the weary pilgrim rest ; 
May Penitence here find a home • 

May all who worship here be blest. 

Long may this holy union last 
In harmony and Christian love ; 

And when the day of life is past, 
Oh, take us to thy fold above ! 

FOR THE CHURCH AT WILTON. 

A LMIGHTY Father, condescend 

To hear the prayer thy suppliants raise ; 
Thy Spirit on us kindly send, 

And tune our hearts to songs of praise. 

Oh, fill this ancient house of thine 

With those who seek thy grace and truth ! 

And let thy mighty power divine 
Support the aged, guide the youth. 

. Those blessed truths which, e'en of old, 
Christ and the Twelve were sent to teach, 
We still with grateful ardor hold, — 
These may thy servant ever preach. 

Oh, may the light which Christ hath shed 

• On ruined souls with life arise ; 
Salvation o'er the nations spread, 
And a new Eden bless our eyes. 

CHARLES SPRAGUE. 
(1791.) 

Charles Sprague, who is still living in Boston, was born in that city, 
Oct. 25, 1791, and received his education in her public schools. His 
father was one of those who, in resistance to British taxation, threw 
overboard the tea in Boston Harbor, in 1773. The son, at the age of 
thirteen, became a clerk in a mercantile house, and subsequently a part- 



CHARLES SPRAGUE. 6$ 

ner with his employers. In 1820 he was appointed teller in the State 
Bank, and in 1825 cashier of the Globe Bank, in which position he 
continued until a few years ago, when advancing years obliged him to 
surrender the trust. 

During his life he has cultivated his taste for poetry with great suc- 
cess ; and his own published productions, in this as well as in other 
departments of literature, have given him a high rank among American 
authors. He first came to be well known as a poet by successfully con- 
tending for the prize offered for the best Prologue at the opening of the 
Park Theatre, in New York, in 1821. He won similar honors at Philadel- 
phia, in 1822 ; at Boston, in 1823 ; at Philadelphia and at Salem, in 1828 ; 
and at Portsmouth, in 1830. The longest of his poems, entitled "Curi- 
osity," was read before the Phi Beta Kappa Society, at Cambridge, in 
1829, and was published some years afterward, in Calcutta, by a British 
officer, as a production of his own, with only certain slight alterations 
from the original text. A collection of Mr. Sprague's poems appeared 
from the press in 1841. A revised and enlarged edition was issued, in 
1850, by Ticknor, Reed, & Fields, the volume including also an oration 
which the author delivered in Boston, July 4, 1825, and an address which 
he gave, in 1827, before the Massachusetts Society for the Suppression 
of the Evils of Intemperance. "The book," says the "Christian 
Examiner" for May, 1851, "is so full of delicate skill and the truest 
feeling, that it will always be in demand, and live an affectionate kind 
of life in the old country, as well as in our own." From this later 
edition we cull a few of the pieces most suitable to our present 
purpose. 



DEDICATION HYMN. 

riOD of Wisdom, God of Might ! 
Father ! dearest name of all, 
Bow thy throne, and bless our rite ; 

'Tis thy children on thee call. 
Glorious One ! look down from heaven, 

Warm each heart and wake each vow 
Unto thee this house is given, 

With thy presence fill it now. 

Fill it now ! on every soul 

Shed the incense of thy grace - r 

While our anthem echoes roll 
Round the consecrated place, 
5 



66 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

While thy holy page we read, 

While the prayers thou lov'st ascend, 

While thy cause thy servants plead, 
Fill this house, our God, our Friend ! 

Fill it now, — oh, fill it long ! 

So, when death shall call us home, 
Still to thee, in many a throng, 

May our children's children come. 
Bless them, Father, long and late ; 

Blot their sins, their sorrows dry ; 
Make this place to them the gate, 

Leading to thy courts on high. 

There, when time shall be no more, 

When the feuds of earth are past, 
May the tribes of every shore 

Congregate in peace at last ! 
Then to thee, thou One all-wise, 

Shall the gathered millions sing, 
Till the arches of the skies 

With their hallelujahs ring. 



ORDINATION HYMN. 

/^\UR fathers, Lord, to seek a spot, 
^^^ Where they might kneel to thee, 
Their own fair heritage forgot, 
And braved an unknown sea. 

Here found. their pilgrim souls repose, 
Where long the heathen roved ; 

And here their humble anthems rose, 
To bless the Power they loved. 



CHARLES SPRAGUE. 67 

They sleep in dust ; but where they trod, 

A feeble, fainting band, 
Glad millions catch the strain, O God, 

And sound it through the land. 

Come, Lord, to this new temple now, 

Thy servant here behold ; 
In thy dread name he breathes his vow, 

To guard this little fold. 

Long may he stand thy herald here, 

Thy lessons to impart ; 
From every eye to wipe the tear, 

The stain from every heart ; 

In paths of peace to bid them tread, 

Where no vain feuds arise, 
And from his life a lustre shed, 

To light them to the skies. 

So, when the last long night shall go, 

The glad, glad morning break, 
When all that walked in truth below 

In joy above shall wake, 

There may thy servant, Lord, be found, 

The chosen of thy Son, 
And hear from him the glorious sound, 

" Well done, beloved one ! " 



INSTALLATION HYMN. 

Written for the installation of Rev. M. I. Motte over the South Congregational 
Society, Boston, May 21, 1828. 

HPHOU lofty One ! whose name is Love, 

Whose praise all nations swell, 
Bend from thy glorious throne above, 
And in this temple dwell. 



68 SOJVGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Father, 'tis thine, this sacred hour ; 

Thine let its spirit be ; 
And while each tongue proclaims thy power, 

Oh, turn each heart to thee. 

Bless him, thy servant ; bid him here 

Thy faithful shepherd stand, 
To fold for thee, through many a year, 

This little gathering band. 

Bless him with grace their steps to lead, 

Where no dark tests divide, 
To make the name of Christ their creed, 

His life and law their guide. 

Bless them, thy children, — them and theirs, - 

In all their ways below ; 
Be with them, Father, in their prayers, 

And with them in their woe. 

Be with them when they come to die, 
And make the summons blest ; 

Then, in a better world on high, 
Receive them to thy rest. 



CHILDREN'S HYMN". 

f~\ THOU, at whose dread name we bend, 
^^^ To whom our purest vows we pay, 
God over all ! in love descend, 
And bless the labors of this day. 

Our fathers here, a pilgrim band, 
Fixed the proud empire of the free ; 

Art moved in gladness o'er the land, 
And Faith her altars reared to thee. 



CHARLES SPRAGUE. 69 

Here, too, to guard, through every age, 

The sacred rights their valor won, 
They bade Instruction spread her page, 

And send down truth from sire to son. 

Here, still through all succeeding time, 

Their stores may Worth and Wisdom bring, 

And still the anthem-notes sublime 
To thee from children's children ring. 



DEATH OF AN INFANT. 

/^NE little bud adorned my bower, 
^^^ And shed sweet fragrance round ; 
It grew in beauty, hour by hour, 
Till, ah ! the Spoiler came in power, 
And crushed it to the ground. 

Yet not for ever in the dust 

That beauteous bud shall lie ; 
No ! in the garden of the just, 
Beneath God's glorious eye, we trust, 
'Twill bloom again on high. 



MOUNT AUBURN. 

" There was a garden, and in the garden a new sepulchre." 

TT7HAT myriads throng, in proud array, 

With songs of joy, and flags unfurled. 
To consecrate the glorious day 
That gave a nation to the world. 

We raise no shout, no trumpet sound, 
No banner to the breeze we spread ; 

Children of clay ! bend humbly round ; 
We plant a city to the dead. 



70 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

For man a garden rose in bloom, 
When yon glad sun began to burn ; 

He fell, and heard the awful doom, 
" Of dust thou art, to dust return ! " 

But He, in whose pure faith we come, 
Who in a gloomier garden lay, 

Assured us of a brighter home, 

And rose, and led the glorious way. 

His word we trust ! when life shall end, 
Here be our long, long slumber passed ; 

To Xhejtrst garden's doom we bend, 
And bless the promise of the last. 



THE BROTHERS. 

TT7E are but two, — the others sleep 

Through death's untroubled night ; 
We are but two, — oh, let us keep 
The link that binds us bright ! 

Heart leaps to heart, — the sacred flood 

That warms us is the same ; 
That good old man, — his honest blood 

Alike we fondly claim. 

We in one mother's arms were locked, — 

Long be her love repaid ; 
In the same cradle we were rocked, 

Round the same hearth we played. 

Our boyish sports were all the same, 

Each little joy and woe : 
Let manhood keep alive "the flame, 

Lit up so long ago. 

We are but two, — be that the band 

To hold us till we die ; 
Shoulder to shoulder let us stand, 

Till side by side we lie. 



CHARLES SPRAGUE. 7 1 



THE WINGED WORSHIPPERS. 



Addressed to two swallows that flew into Chauncy Place Church during divine service. 
— A very interesting account of this poem, given by Mr. Sprague himself, may be found 
in the "Monthly Magazine," for May, 1870. 



/^*AY, guiltless pair, 

What seek ye from the fields of heaven ? 
Ye have no need of prayer, 
Ye have no sins to be forgiven. 

Why perch ye here 
Where mortals to their Maker bend ? 

Can your pure spirits fear 
The God ye never could offend ? 

Ye never knew 
The crimes for which we come to weep. 

Penance is not for you, 
Blessed wanderers of the upper deep. 

To you 'tis given 
To make sweet Nature's untaught lays ; 

Beneath the arch of heaven 
To chirp away a life of praise. 

Then spread each wing 
Far, far above o'er lakes and lands, 

And join the choirs that sing 
In that blue dome not reared with hands. 

Or, if ye stay, 
To note the consecrated hour, 

Teach me the airy way, 
And let me try your envied power. 



72 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Above the crowd, 
On upward wings could I but fly, 

I'd bathe in yon bright cloud, 
And seek the stars that gem the sky. 

'Twere heaven indeed 
Through fields of trackless light to soar, 

On Nature's charms to feed, 
And Nature's own great God adore. 



SAMUEL GILMAN. 
(1791-1858.) 

Rev. Samuel Gilman, D.D., son of Frederick and Abigail H. (Somes) 
Gilman, was born in Gloucester, Mass., Feb. 16, 1791. In his early 
youth he attended school for some time at the Academy in Atkinson, 
N.H., and was subsequently a clerk in the Essex Bank, Salem. He 
graduated, with distinction, at Harvard College, in 181 1 ; was tutor for 
two years at Cambridge, in Mathematics ; studied Theology under Drs. 
Ware and Kirkland, and was ordained, Dec. 1, 1819, pastor of the Uni- 
tarian Church in Charleston, S.C. On the 14th October, 1819, he was 
married to Caroline Howard, daughter of Samuel Howard, Esq., of 
Boston, and a lady of much literary talent and distinction. This union 
of pastor and people, and of husband and wife, continued unbroken 
until Feb. 9, 1858, when Dr. Gilman died at Kingston, Mass., while on a 
visit to the family of his son-in-law, Rev. C. J. Bowen. During his long 
ministry at the South, this eminent and saintly man was not only dis- 
tinguished for his able pulpit ministrations and faithful parochial labors, 
but was greatly esteemed for his active interest in the cause of Temper- 
ance, for his successful pursuit of Literature, and for the zeal which he 
awakened in others for the general welfare of the community. His death 
was regarded as a public calamity ; and his funeral obsequies at Charles- 
ton witnessed to the universal sorrow of the people among whom he 
had spent so many of his years. 

His literary productions were numerous and of rare merit. A poem 
which he delivered when he graduated, in 181 1, elicited much applause. 
It was repeated, with a "sequel," in 1852, at the residence of Hon. 
Edward Everett, in Boston, whither the class had been invited to cele- 
brate their forty-first anniversary. The longest of his poems was one 
on " Human Life," which he read before the Phi Beta Kappa Society at 



SAMUEL GILMAN. 73 

Cambridge, in 1815. Another, on a "History of a Ray of Light," was 
first published in an annual entitled " The Atlantic Souvenir," in 1822. 
He became a frequent and welcome contributor to the North American 
Review, the Christian Examiner, and the Southern Quarterly. Among 
his fine papers and essays were a series on the lectures of Dr. Thomas 
Brown, one on the writings of Mr. Everett, and another on " The Influ- 
ence of One National Literature upon Another." In 1829 he published 
his "Memoirs of a New England Village Choir," of which three editions 
were issued. In 1837 he received his degree of D.D. from Harvard 
College. In 1856 appeared his "Contributions to Literature, Descrip- 
tive, Critical, Humorous, Biographical, Philosophical, and Poetical." 
In this volume are included his " Memoirs of a New England Village 
Choir," some of his magazine articles, and the more important of his 
poetic compositions. Here and in various Collections are a number of 
excellent hymns, some of which are very familiar to many congregations. 
The first of the five which we here give is a translation from the Ger- 
man, with two stanzas omitted ; the others are Dr. Gilman's own. 



HYMN FOR BAPTISM. 

HP HIS child we dedicate to thee, 

O God of grace and purity ! 
Shield it from sin and threatening wrong, 
And let thy love its life prolong. 

Oh, may thy Spirit gently draw 
Its willing soul to keep thy law ; 
May virtue, piety, and truth 
Dawn even with its dawning youth. 

We, too, before thy gracious sight, 
Once shared the blest baptismal rite, 
And would renew its solemn vow 
With love, and thanks, and praises now. 

Grant that, with true and faithful heart, 
We still may act the Christian's part, 
Cheered by each promise thou hast given, 
And laboring for the prize in heaven. 



74 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



COMMUNION HYMNS. 

"VT'ES, to the last command 

We will obedient prove ; 
Around his table will we stand, 
In memory of his love. 

His precious blood he shed 

For our unworthy race, 
While uttering, in the Almighty's stead, 

His messages of grace. 

Oh, if our senseless pride 

His dying words neglect, 
Tis we who pierce his sacred side, 

And we who God reject ! 

Then let us ever keep 

This consecrated feast, 
Till memory shall have sunk to sleep, 

Or life itself have ceased. 



(~\ GOD ! accept the sacred hour 
^ _> ^ Which we to thee have given ; 
And let this hallowed scene have power 
To raise our souls to heaven. 

Still let us hold, till life departs, 

The precepts of thy Son, 
Nor let our thoughtless, thankless hearts 

Forget what he has done. 



SAMUEL GILMAN. 7$ 

His true disciples may we live, 

From all corruption free, 
And humbly learn like him to give 

Our powers, our wills, to thee. 

And oft along life's dangerous way, 

To smooth our passage through, 
Wilt thou on this thy holy day 

For us this scene renew. 



\\7"E sing thy mercy, God of love ! 

That sent the Saviour from above 
To free our race from sin and woe, 
And spread thy peace and'truth below. 

We thank thee for the words he brought ; 
We thank thee that he lived, and taught 
Frail and imperfect man, to be 
In humble mode, resembling thee. 

We thank thee for thy gracious care 
Which kept those sacred pages fair 
Through every age, whose lines record 
The deeds and precepts of our Lord. 

We thank thee for this solemn rite, 
By us repeated in thy sight ; 
Oh, fill our souls with bread divine, 
And nourish us with heavenly wine ! 



HYMN FOR AN ORDINATION. 

Written for the ordination of Mr. Charles J. Bowen to the ministry, at Newburyport, 
Nov. 20, 1850. 

T^ATHER ! thy rich spirit shed 

On this youthful suppliant's head ; 
Soothe his self-distrusting tears ; 
Temper his abounding fears \ 



7& SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Guide his vast and high desire ; 
Touch his lips with coals of fire ; 
Pour thy truth upon his soul, 
O'er the thirsting church to roll. 

In thy vineyard called to toil, 
Wisely may he search the soil ; 
Sinners may he love to win, 
Whilst he hates and brands the sin. 
Give him boldness for the right, 
Give him meekness for the fight ; 
Teach him zeal and care to blend ; 
Give him patience to the end. 

Seal, this day, the vows that hold 
Flock and shepherd in one fold ; 
May he well those mandates keep, 
Feed my lambs, and, Feed my sheep. 
Bless his home, his watch-tower bless ; 
Guide him with thy gentleness 
In the path once taught and trod 
By the enduring Son of God. 

Grant him, in his charge, to find 
Listening ear and fervent mind, 
Helpful counsels, deepening peace, 
Earnest life and glad increase. 
May they, by each other led, 
Grow to one in Christ their head ; 
And, at last, together be 
Ripe for heaven and meet for thee ! 

CAROLINE GILMAN. 

0794-) 

Mrs. Caroline Gilman, daughter of Samuel Howard, Esq., and wife 
of Rev. Samuel Gilman, D.D., was born in Boston, Oct. 8, 1794. Hav- 
ing passed her school days at Concord, Cambridge, and other towns in 
her native State, she accompanied her husband, soon after their mar- 



CAROLINE GILMAN. 77 

riage, in 1819, to the future scene of his ministerial labors, at Charles- 
ton, S.C. Since Dr. Gilman's death, she has resided at Charleston 
and Cambridge, and is now living at Tiverton, R.I., with her daughter, 
Mrs. Charles J. Bowen, and other members of the family circle. 

She began to write poems and stories at a very early age. Her well- 
known lines " On the Raising of Jairus' Daughter " appeared in the 
"North American Review " as long ago as 1817. In 1832 she began to 
edit, at Charleston, a juvenile weekly paper, which she named " The 
Rosebud," and which afterward took the title of "The Southern Rose." 
She contributed to it most of the verses, tales, and novels, which were 
subsequently published in volumes. "Recollections of a Northern 
Housekeeper" originally appeared in "The Rosebud," in 1834; and 
"Recollections of a Southern Matron" in "The Southern Rose," in 
1835 and 1836. These, with " Ruth Raymond, or Love's Progress," and 
others of her popular works, passed through many editions, and were 
much admired for " their practical lessons as well as their genial sim- 
plicity and humor." She was the author, for several years, of the 
"Lady's Annual Register and Almanac," and wrote also a book en- 
titled "The Poetry of Travelling in the United States." Her "Verses 
of a Lifetime" she gave to the press in 1849, an< ^ published her "Oracles 
from the Poets" in 1854, and, still later, "The Sibyl, or New Oracles 
from the Poets," the latter " consisting of passages of verse ingeniously 
arranged to correspond to numbers which are to be taken at random." 

Not to mention in detail a variety of other volumes of tales, ballads, 
&c, which she has written, it may be added that, in 1872, she and her 
daughter, Mrs. Caroline H. Jervey, published a small book of " Stories 
and Poems " for children, for whom Mrs. Gilman, all through her life, 
has rendered a most delightful literary service. Mrs. Jervey is also 
an authoress of no little merit, as her " Poetry and Prose for the Young," 
1856, her story "Vernon Grove," 1859, and her "Hannah Courtenay," 
1866, give ample proof. 

The talented and accomplished lady who is the subject of this sketch, 
as she shared with her husband the toils and satisfactions of his long and 
beautiful ministry at Charleston, shared with him also the gift of song ; 
and several of her fine, lovely hymns have, like his, lent their aid to the 
service of praise. 

The fifth verse of the following favorite hymn is less familiar to our 
congregations than the four which precede it, having been added to the 
others by the writer herself for the book of "Services and Hymns," pub- 
lished in 1867, for the church at Charleston. The same may be said of 
the hymn which immediately succeeds this one. Both thus came to be a 
fuller expression of her Christian faith. We copy them from the Charles- 
ton Collection. They originally appeared in 1838, in the " Lady's Annual 
Register." 



7% SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



SABBATH DAY. 

TT7E bless thee for this sacred day, 

Thou who hast every blessing given, 
Which sends the dreams of earth away, 
And yields a glimpse of opening heaven. 

Rich day of holy, thoughtful rest, 
May we improve thy calm repose ; 

And, in God's service truly blest, 
Forget the world, its joys and woes. 

Lord, may thy truth upon the heart 
Here fall and dwell as heavenly dew, 

And flowers of grace and freshness start, 
Where once the weeds of error grew. 

May Prayer now lift her sacred wings, 

Contented with that aim alone 
Which bears her to the King of kings, 

And rests her at his sheltering throne. 

And ever, on this sacred day, 

May we remember Him who taught, 

Though heaven and earth should pass away, 
The Sabbath's holiest, highest thought. 



As an illustration of the general favor with which the following lines 
have been regarded, we may say that the late Judge White, of Salem, 
having, in his constant attendance at the First Church in that city, noted, 
for a term of years, all the hymns which had been given out by different 
ministers to be sung, was curious to learn which one had been most 
frequently used during that time. He found that this was the hymn : — 

GOD OUR FATHER. 

TS there a lone and dreary hour, 

When worldly pleasures lose their power ? 
My Father ! let me turn to thee, 
And set each thought of darkness free. 



CAROLINE GTLMAN. 79 

Is there a time of racking grief, 
Which scorns the prospect of relief : 
My Father ! break the cheerless gloom 
And bid my heart its calm resume. 

Is there an hour of peace and joy, 
When hope is all my soul's employ : 
My Father ! still my hopes will roam, 
Until they rest with thee, their home. 

The noontide blaze, the midnight scene, 
The dawn, or twilight's sweet serene, 
The glow of life, the dying hour, 
Shall own my Father's grace and power. 

And while such lofty memories roll 
In solemn grandeur o'er my soul, 
May Christ be with me, he who came 
To teach " Our Father's " tender name. 



HYMN FOR A CHILD. 

Taken from Mrs. Gilman's little volume, entitled "A Gift Book." 

/ T"*HE glorious God who reigns on high, 

Who formed the earth and built the sky, 
Stoops from his throne in heaven to hear 
A little infant's prattling prayer. 

Father of all ! My Father too ! 
Oh, make me good and just and true ! 
Make me delight to learn thy word, 
And love to pray, and praise thee, Lord. 

Oh, may thy gracious presence bless 
And guard my childhood's helplessness ! 
Be with me as I grow in years, 
And guard me through the vale of tears. 



80 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

THE VOICE FROM THE CLOUD. 

From " Verses of a Life-time" 

"There came a cloud, and overshadowed them, and they feared as they entered into 
the cloud. And there came a voice out of the cloud, saying, This is my beloved Son : 
hear him." 

A CLOUD flits o'er the youthful brow, 

And grief's first shadowings veil it now ; 
But hark" ! within its misty wreaths, 
A tone of heavenly mercy breathes, 
" 'Tis my beloved Son ! hear him." 

A cloud hangs o'er yon manly form, 
While buffeting misfortune's storm : 
A wreck, his earthly treasure lies ; 
But ah ! a voice in mercy cries, 

" 'Tis my beloved Son ! hear him." 

Wrapt in her sorrowing sable veil, 
Sits the young widow, sad and pale ; 
Dense is the cloud that round her dwells, 
But hark ! the heavenly chorus swells, 
" 'Tis my beloved Son ! hear him." 

A cloud is on the sinner's soul, 
Deep, deep the murky volumes roll : 
He gropes, unaided and alone, 
Until he hears the welcome tone, 
" 'Tis my beloved Son ! hear him." 

Above the graveyard's grassy breast, 
Funeral shadows love to rest ; 
But to the heart well-taught of Heaven, 
A light from these rich words is given, 
" 'Tis my beloved Son ! hear him." 

In heaven those clouds will roll away : 
Unbroken light, unshadowed day, 
Shall burst upon the gazing eye, 
And seraph voices raise the cry, 

"'Tis God's beloved Son! hear him." 



LEWIS G. PRAY. 8 1 

We give also these few lines, which we copy from the " Lady's Annual 
Register," of 1838, where not less than twelve of Mrs. Gihnan's poetical 
pieces may be found : — 

THE EARTH IS BEAUTIFUL. 

/ T V HE whole broad earth is beautiful 

To minds attuned aright, 
And wheresoe'er my feet are turned 

A smile has met my sight : 
The city with its bustling walk, 

Its splendor, wealth, and power, 
A ramble by the river-side, 

A passing summer flower, 
The meadow green, the ocean's swell, 

The forest waving free, — 
Are gifts of God, and speak in tones 

Of kindliness to me. 
And oh ! where'er my lot is cast, 

Where'er my footsteps roam, 
If those I love are near to me, 

That spot is still my home. 



LEWIS G. PRAY. 
(1793) 

Lewis Glover Pray was born in Quincy, Mass., Aug. 15, 1793, and was 
educated at the public schools of his native town. Removing to Boston 
in 1808, he served for some years as an apprentice in a shoe-store, and in 
181 5 entered into business on his own account. In 1823 he was married 
to Miss Catherine L. Wright. Retiring from business in 1838, he has, 
since that time, during his continued residence in his adopted city, and 
after his removal to Roxbury (Boston Highlands), where he now resides, 
fulfilled many public trusts, and occupied himself with numerous chari- 
table, religious, and literary labors. As early as 182 1 he served as a mem- 
ber of the Committee which reported the basis of the Municipal Charter 
of Boston, and in later years was a member of the City Government, 
the Board of Education, and the State Legislature. Mr. Pray deserves 

6 



82 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

special mention for his services in the cause of Sunday Schools, having 
been one of the earliest pioneers and most steadfast laborers in this 
work among the Liberal Churches. For thirty-four years, from 1827 to 
1861, he was superintendent of the Sunday School of the Twelfth Con- 
gregational Society in Boston, being also for the same period an officer 
of the church. In 1833 he published his " Sunday School Hymn Book," 
which was the first collection of the kind ever prepared for use in Uni- 
tarian Sunday Schools, in connection with music. To meet a new want, 
he published, in 1844, the " Sunday School Hymn and Service Book," 
which was a much -altered and somewhat enlarged edition of the other, 
and embraced Scripture Lessons, and forms of prayer for children's 
worship. In 1847 ne published a " History of Sunday Schools," and in 
1849 a "Christian Catechism." For many years he was treasurer of the 
Sunday School Society, and also its agent to visit and address Unitarian 
Sunday Schools, far and near. 

In 1862 he printed for his friends a volume of his hymns and poems, 
entitled " The Sylphids' School." In 1863 ne published an " Historical 
Sketch of the Twelfth Congregational Society, Boston ; " in 1867, a 
"Memoir of Rev. S. Barrett, D.D.," long the honored and beloved 
minister of the church just mentioned, and friend and pastor of Mr. 
Pray; and in 1873, at tne a S e °f eighty* an additional volume of hymns 
and poems, under the title, " Autumn Leaves." He has been the author 
of various books beside, and for more than a half century has contributed 
to the secular a,nd religious papers and magazines. 

A large number of the hymns of this earnest and devoted servant of 
the Church and Sunday School first appeared in his own compilations of 
1833 and 1844. Some of them have passed into other and larger Collec- 
tions. The first four of those which we give below are taken from the 
"Sylphids' School," one of them, "When God upheaved the pillared 
earth," having been deemed worthy of a place in the " Hymns of the 
Ages." The other two of those which we copy are from "Autumn 
Leaves." 

FOR A RURAL EXCURSION. 

Written for the Rural Excursion of the Suffolk Street Sunday School, in 1843, 
and published in the Sunday-school Hymn Book, 1844. Several stanzas are here 
omitted. 

r^OME when the leaves are greenest, 

Come in the flush of light, 
Come when the air is sweetest, 

Come when the flowers are bright ; 
For God has made in beauty 

The world in which we live, 
To teach us of our duty, 

To know him, and believe. 



LEWIS G. PRAY. 83 

Oh ! feel that God is speaking 

In every breeze that blows, 
In hues the clouds are streaking, 

In every stream that flows ; 
Oh ! hear him in the singing 

That swells the groves among, 
And in the grateful humming 

Of every insect throng. 

Oh ! see him in the mountain, 

And hear him in the rill ; 
Speaking from every fountain, 

And vocal in the hill. 
The planets, in their rising, 

Him day and night proclaim ; 
While every season, changing, 

Attests his glorious name. 



MONODY 
On the Death of Israel Alden Putnam, 

A Teacher of the Twelfth Congregational Sunday School, in Boston, and graduate of 
the Divinity School, Cambridge, of the class of 1848. He died in his native town, Dan- 
vers, Mass., Oct. 31, 1848. 

T^RY, dry up those tears, . 
Ye friends, sad and many : 

Disnjiss all thy fears, 

If fears ye have any ; 
For thy classmate, thy teacher, thy brother, thy son, 
Hath left us a pattern of life-work well done. 

Gone, gone to his rest ! 

The young how they're grieved ! 

The good feel oppressed, 

And the Church is bereaved ; 
For their teacher, their pastor, their brother, their son, 
Was an angel of these ; and his work was well done. 

Stop, stop now the bier 
That beareth the form : 



84 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH, 

His body lay here 
For the earth and the worm ; 
But thy classmate, thy teacher, thy brother, thy son, 
Is not here, but is risen ; for his work was well done. 

Lay, lay on the sod 

That hideth his frame ; 

But, remember, his God 

Hath written the name 
Of thy classmate, thy teacher, thy brother, thy son, 
In the Lamb's Book of Life ; for his work was well done 

Strong, strong is the grave 

That holdeth his dust, 

But stronger to save, 

The Arm of his Trust ; 
For thy classmate, thy teacher, thy brother, thy son, 
Was strong in the faith that God's will should be done. 

Now, now, not alone, 

But with myriads bright, 

He stands round His throne, 

With the angels of light ; 
Where thy classmate, thy teacher, thy brother, thy son, 
Swells gladly the chorus, " Let God's will be done ! " 

Thus, thus shouldst thou feel, 

In this day of thy grief ; 

And to Him should'st appeal, 

Who hath promised'relief 
To pupil or parent, to brother or son, 
Whose prayer at His altar is, "Thy will be done." 



ORDINATION HYMN. 

For the ordination of Mr. Alfred P. Putnam as pastor of the Mount Pleasant Congre- 
gational Church and Society, Roxbury, Dec. 19, 1855. 

A ROUND thine altar, Lord, this day, 

Thy people here their homage pay ; 
Would seek thy grace, thy love review, 
As they thy mercies taste anew. 



LEWIS G. PRAY. 85 

Lord, thou hast sent thy servant here ; 
His purpose let thy presence cheer, 
As, bending low and reverent, he 
Devotes his powers, himself, to thee. 

O Father ! grant him, from above, 
Thine aid to speak the truth in love \ 
So may his words like dew distil, 
And every heart with blessings fill. 

Lord, help him, when Christ's feast is spread, 
To break with holy peace its bread ; 
And send him forth, with shepherd's crook, 
To lead the lambs by Kedron's brook. 

As varied scenes his powers shall try, 

Lord, with thine aid be ever nigh ; 

His people's love a cheering light, 

And thou his strength in death's dark night. 



SILENT WORK. 

So that there was neither hammer nor axe, nor any tool of iron, heard in the house, 
while it was building." — i Kings vi. 7. 

"VX 7HEN God upheaved the pillared earth, 
Hung out the stars, to light gave birth, 
Opened its deeps, its carpet spread, 
'Twas silence all, as chaos fled. 

When rose the fane on Zion's hill, 
A work of matchless power and skill, 
No axe was heard, no hammer there ; 
But all was still as summer air. 

Thus laboring through life's working day, 
In gold or marble, wood or clay, 
Let Art, through us, its empire pure 
By quiet toil and skill secure. 



86 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Thus air and flame shall space o'ercome, 
And bring the distant near to home ; 
While thought in channels new shall flow, 
And round the world in silence go. 

Its softening light shall Science lend, 
And Fancy her rich tracery blend, 
New beauty o'er each work be cast, 
And still the fairest, best, the last. 

Great God ! thus let the temple rise 
Whose altar-stone within us lies, 
Silent and calm with skill divine, 
Till light immortal round it shine. 



PENITENCE. 

"pAR off from God, O thou my soul ! 

Far off from God, the source of light ; 
The waves of passion round thee roll, 
And interpose a starless night. 

Lost on thy course, thy steps astray, 
How canst thou find again thy road ? 

Fall on the knee, devoutly pray, 
And seek the aid of truth and God. 

Thy sins confess, from error flee ; 

Then holy thoughts and heavenly love 
Shall come through sweet humility, 

And flood thy soul from realms above. 

Flood it with peace that earth hath not, 
And earth no power to take away ; 

Thy stains washed out, thy sins forgot, 
And God thy trust, thy strength, thy stay. 



NATHANIEL L. FROTHINGHAM. 8? 



THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 

The fourth stanza in the original is here omitted. 

HPHE Cross, the symbol once of crime, 

It bore a hated name ; 
Through ages dark in realms of time, 
The mark of human shame. 

But when the Son of God appeared, 

Haloed with light divine, — 
Hung on the cross by those who feared, 

He made it glory's sign. 

O Son of God ! that cross how bright, 

Which typifies thy love ! 
To human hopes a beacon-light 

To guide to worlds above. 

O symbol, to the Christian dear ! 

Be ever dear to me ; 
To strengthen faith, to quell all fear, 

And lead, O God, to thee. 

NATHANIEL L. FROTHINGHAM. 

(1793-1870.) 

Rev. Nathaniel L. Frothingham, D.D., was born in Boston, July 
23, 1793. He graduated at Harvard College, in 18 11, with distinguished 
honor, in the class with Edward Everett, Samuel Gilman, and others of 
subsequent fame. After teaching awhile in the Boston Latin School, he 
was for a short time a private tutor, and then became, in 1812, when he 
was only nineteen years of age, Instructor in Rhetoric and Oratory in 
Harvard College. Meanwhile he studied theology, and in 181 5 was or- 
dained pastor of the First Congregational Church in Boston. In conse- 
quence of ill-health, he resigned this charge in 1850, but continued to 
worship at the church of which he had been the faithful and revered 
minister for thirty-five years, until failing sight and strength deprived 
him of the privilege. He visited Europe several times during his life. 



88 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

He was the author of more than fifty published sermons, and contrib- 
uted a large number of religious and literary articles to the " Christian 
Examiner," the "North American Review," and other periodicals. In 
1852 he published a volume of "Sermons in the Order of a Twelve- 
Month ; " in 1855, " Metrical Pieces, Translated and Original : " and, in 
1870, " Part Second," or a new series of his poems. Some of the fine 
hymns with which the last-named volume abounds, and which he had 
himself written or imported from the German, were wrought into their 
finished forms of beauty as we find them here, and were given to the 
pages of the " Monthly Magazine " and other publications, after the author 
or translator himself had become blind. While yet a student at Cam- 
bridge, he had delivered a poem at the installation of Dr. Kirkland as 
President of the College. The sacred fire of his genius burned steadily 
on through life, and lighted up for him the gathering shadows of age. 

He received his degree of D.D. from Harvard College in 1836. He 
was a member of the Massachusetts Historical Society, and also of the 
Academy of Arts and Sciences. His wife was Ann Gorham, daughter of 
Peter C. Brooks, an eminent merchant of Boston. 

"All who knew Dr. Frothingham," wrote Rev. J. W. Thompson, D.D., 
in the "Monthly Magazine," soon after his death, April 4, 1870, "rec- 
ognized in him the most courteous gentleman ; the finished scholar ; the 
man of exquisite tastes ; the refined, instructive, pleasing, and able 
preacher ; the sweet poet, his lips moist with the dew, now of Parnas- 
sus, and now of Hermon, as he followed his charming muse from classic 
to holy land, himself equally at home in both." 

The first hymns or sacred poems which we copy are taken from his 
" Metrical Pieces," published in 1855. Most of them are in many of the 
Church Collections. 



ORDINATION OF A MINISTER. 

1 

Written for the ordination of Mr. William P. Lunt as pastor of the Second Unitarian 
Congregational Society of the city of New York, June 19, 1828. 

(~\ GOD, whose presence glows in all 

Within, around us, and above ! 
Thy word we bless, thy name we call, 

Whose word is Truth, whose name is Love. 

That truth be with the heart believed 
Of all who seek this sacred place ; 

With power proclaimed, in peace received, 
Our spirits' light, thy Spirit's grace. 



NATHANIEL L. FROTHINGHAM. 89 

That love its holy influence pour, 

To keep us meek, and make us free, 
And throw its binding blessing more 

Round each with all, and all with thee. 



Direct and guard the youthful strength, 
Devoted to thy Son this day ; 

And give thy word full course at length 
O'er man's defects and time's decay. 

Send down its angel to our side ; 

Send in its calm upon the breast ; 
For we would know no other guide, 

And we can need no other rest. 



CHRIST'S MANIFESTATION. 



Written for the installation of Rev. William P. Lunt, as colleague pastor with Rev. 
Peter Whitney, at Quincy, Mass., June 3, 1S35. The sermon on the occasion was also on 
the Manifestation of Christ. 



TITE meditate the day 

Of triumph and of rest, 
When, shown of God, and shaped in clay, 
The Word was manifest. 



The angels saw and sung ; 

Earth listened far and wide ; 
Believed and preached, — a faith, a tongue, 

The Word was glorified. 

Lord, give it gracious sweep, 

And here its errand bless, 
Whose mercy sent it o'er the deep, 

To glad a wilderness. 



90 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Shoot out its starry * light, 
To guide our pilgrim way ; 

A sign of hope through this world's night, 
And brighter than its day. 

Again thy witness-voice ! 

Again thy spirit-dove ! * 
That hearts may in its trust rejoice, 

And soften with its love. 

Send round its blessed cup # 

As once in Galilee ; 
And catch our dull affections up 

To heaven, and Christ, and Thee. 



THE CHURCH. 

Written for the ordination of Mr. Henry W. Bellows, at New York, 1839. 

f~\ LORD of life, and truth, and grace, .. 
^^^ Ere Nature was begun ! 
Make welcome to our erring race 
Thy Spirit and thy Son. 

We hail the Church, built high o'er all 

The heathen's rage and scoff ; 
Thy providence its fenced wall, 
" The Lamb the light thereof." 

Thy Christ hath reached his heavenly seat 
Through sorrows. and through scars; 

The golden lamps are at his feet, 
And in his hand the stars. f 

* One of three ancient symbols, in the Church, of Christ's manifestation to the 
Gentiles. 

t Revelations ii. 1. 



NATHANIEL L. FROTHINGHAM. 91 

Oh, may he walk among us here, 

With his rebuke and love, — 
A brightness o'er this lower sphere, 

A ray from worlds above ! 

Teach thou thy youthful servant, Lord, 

The mysteries he reveals, 
That reverence may receive the word, 

And meekness loose the seals. 



HYMN OF DEDICATION. 

For the dedication of the Church of the Saviour, Boston, Nov. 10, 1847. 

C\ SAVIOUR, whose immortal word 

For ever lasts the same ! 
Thy grace within the walls afford, 
Here builded to thy name. 

No other name is named below, 
%. No other sign unfurled, 
To lead our hope, or quell our woe, 
Or sanctify the'world. 

Here, many-tongued, thy truth be found, 

And mind and heart employ ; 
Thy Law and Promise pour around 

Their terror and their joy ! 

Here may thy saints new progress make ; 

Thy loitering ones be sped ; 
And here thy mourners comfort take, 

And here thy poor be fed. 

May God, thy God, his Spirit send, — 

The Word is else unblest, — 
And fill this place from end to end, 

O Ark of strength and rest ! 



92 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



COMMUNION- HYMN. 

" Do this in remembrance of me." 
" How he was known of them in breaking of bread." 

" "O EMEMBER me," the Saviour said, 

On that forsaken night, 
When from his side the nearest fled, 
And death was close in sight. 

Through all the following ages' track 

The world remembers yet ; 
With love and worship gazes back, 

And never can forget. 

But who of us has seen his face, 

Or heard the words he said ? 
And none can now his look retrace 

In breaking of the bread. 

Oh, blest are they, who have not seen, 

And yet believe him still ! 
They know him, when his praise they mean, 

And when they do his will. 

We hear his word along our way ; 

We see his light above ; 
Remember when we strive and pray, 

Remember when we love. 



STRENGTH. 

To a Friend near Death. 

" "XTTHEN I am weak, I'm strong," 

The great Apostle cried. 
The strength, that did not to the earth belong, 
The might of Heaven supplied. 



NATHANIEL L. FROTHINGHAM. 93 

" When I am weak, I'm strong ; " — ■ 

Blind Milton caught that strain, 
And flung its victory o'er the ills that throng 

Round Age, and Want, and Pain. 

" When I am weak I'm strong," 

Each Christian heart repeats ; 
These words will tune its feeblest breath to song, 

And fire its languid heats. 

" When I am weak, I'm strong," 

That saying is for you, 
Dear friend, and well it may become your tongue, 

Whose soul has found it true. 

O Holy Strength ! whose ground 

Is in the heavenly land ; 
And whose supporting help alone is found 

In God's immortal hand. 

O blessed ! that appears 

When fleshly aids are spent ; 
And girds the mind, when most it faints and fears, 

With trust and sweet content. 

It bids us cast aside 

All thoughts of lesser powers ; 
Give up all hopes from changing time and tide, 

And all vain will of ours. 

We have but to confess 

That there's but one retreat ; 
And meekly lay each need and each distress 

Down at the sovereign Feet : 

Then, then it fills the place 

Of all we hoped to do ; 
And sunken nature triumphs in the grace 

That bears us up and through. 



94 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

A better glow than health 

Flushes the cheek and brow ; 
The heart is stout with store of nameless wealth : — 

We can do all things now. 

No less sufhcience seek ; 

All counsel less is wrong ; 
The whole world's force is poor and mean and weak, - 

" When I am weak, I'm strong." 



The following selections are from the second volume of "Metrical 
Pieces : " — 



HOMEWARD FROM FOREIGN LANDS. 

" Then I said, I shall die in my nest." — Job xxix. 18. 

'T^HERE are they who have left their sweet home, 
Through these strange distant places to roam, 
And no more back, no more, ever come ; 
And I sigh, with their memory oppressed, 
" Let me die in my nest." 

When the troubles of nature are rife, 
And the heart with itself is at strife, 
For then Death is in conflict with Life, 
I submit to the sovereign behest, 
But would die in my nest. 

Where within me the first thoughts were dreamed, 
And upon me affection first beamed, 
And through blossoms and tears my spring teemed ; 
Amid scenes and companions loved best, 
I would die in my nest. 



NATHANIEL L. FROTHINGHAM. 95 

Not in lands with a speech not my own, 
Where the sights that are newest look lone ; 
But where all most familiar had grown 

To my eyes and the throbs of my breast, — 
Shall I die in that nest ? 

They will say, " It is one to the wise 
From what country the freed spirit flies, 
For the way is the same to the skies ; " — 
Truths to faith and to reason addressed, 
But alas for the nest ! 

Oh, methinks it would glad the last gaze, 
To be circled with friends of old days, 
And the spots that are gilt with the rays, 
That stream from the sun of the West 
O'er the down of my nest ! 

And I hear a propitious decree ; 

And the blessing I hoped for shall be ; 

For I smell the wide air of the sea, 

There is land o'er the wave's foamy crest, 
" I shall die in my nest." 



"ARISE AND EAT." 

1 Arise and eat, because the journey is too great for thee." — i Kings xix. 7. 

" T^HE journey is too great for thee," 

The prophet heard ; 
And all may list in secrecy 
The self-same word. 

Life's way and work lie forward spread 

In Duty's sight ; 
And who but needs more strength to stead, 

And fuller light ? 



96 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

And grant no lack of view or force, — 

We faint in will ; 
And so the sweep of that great course 

We fail to fill. 



The weary tracts of pain and grief 
Will stretch far through, 

Till the flesh sinks beyond relief, 
And the heart too. 



The tangled paths of many a care 

Wind slow about ; 
And straight in front, lo ! flinty fare 
And foggy doubt ! 

And hindrances the firmest tread 

Will oft beset : 
And perils with a deeper dread 

The dear life threat. 

" The journey is too great for thee ! " 

Beyond the bounds 
Where Time parts from Immensity 

Its measured grounds. 

Oh, then that other word attend ! 

Its offer meet : • — 
The calling of an angel friend ; 

" Arise and eat." 



Eat of the fruits of holy trust 

In heavenly good ; 
Not grown of dust, to mould to dust, 

But angels' food. 



NATHANIEL L. FRO THING HAM. 97 

That food shall nerve both limb and heart 

When faint with fear ; 
And pour through each immortal part 

Its power and cheer. 

Thus, girt with zeal, the travelling soul, 

With patience shod, 
Arrives at Horeb's distant goal, 

The mount of God. 



CAST THY BREAD UPOxNT THE WATERS. 

Cast thy bread upon the waters : for thou shalt find it after many days." — Eccl. xi. i. 



/^*AST thy bread upon the waters, 

Food for Penury's sons and daughters ; 
Nor on its drowning crumbs mistrustful gaze, 
For thou shalt find it after many days. 

Sail thine aid across the billows, 
For famished mouths and fevered pillows : 
Then watch it back over those streetless ways, 
For thou shalt find it after many days. 

Sink thy corn within the furrow 
Of labor faithful, patience thorough ; 
And trust it to great Nature's drops and rays, 
For thou shalt find it after many days. 



Not the aid which thou bestowest ; 

Not the very seed thou sowest ; 
Not just the prize thy doting heart portrays, 
Thou wilt not find these after many days. 

7 



98 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Nobler stores and growths and prizes 

Lie in what the soul devises ; 
For this hath spheres that show no waning phase, 
Nor own dependence on these mortal days. 

Crave from Fortune no indenture ; 

Boldly on, and venture, venture ! 
Who scants his pains and risks for heavenly praise 
Finds naught but pains and losses all his days. 

Trust ! Let not weak expectation 
Take the place of that strong station ; 
The peace that's free from this world's hurt and craze 
Thou'lt find above, where there are no more days. 



FEDERAL STREET MEETING-HOUSE. 



Sung in the Federal Street Meeting-House, Boston, on the last Sunday of its use for 
public worship, March 13, 1859. This was the church that witnessed, for so long a time, 
the ministry of Dr. Channing, and also of Dr. Gannett, his colleague and successor. 



"C^AREWELL, ye walls ! though in your sacred square 

The feet of many a saint have loved to walk ; 
Farewell, ye walls ! though through your charmed air 
Echoes, and more than echoes, seem to talk. 

Oh, not within the house that man has reared, 
Or man has hallowed, is God's Spirit bound ; 

It runs and sanctifies, adored, endeared ; 
For ever present, and sufficient found. 

Nor let us think that all the fervid speech 
The preacher utters when his triumphs come 

Was more of human worth, or heavenly reach, 
Than the heart's prayer that rises and is dumb. 



NATHANIEL L. FROTHINGHAM. 99 

We thank thee, Father, for thy good gifts here, 
In spoken word and feeling unexpressed ; 

Let thy full grace be, as aforetime, near ; 

Go with our steps, and lodge where'er we rest. 

Now lift the Ark, God's testimonial sign ; 

May union hold it by its golden rings ! 
His law laid up within its awful shrine, 

Its lid arched over with the cherubs' wings. 



HYMN. 

For the dedication of the house of worship of the Third Unitarian Society, New York, 
Dec. 25, 1863. 

/^NE Father, God, we own; 

One Spirit ever more ; 
One Christ, with manger, cross, and throne, 
The Light, the Way, the Door. 

In souls we hail his birth ; 

'Tis now he comes again : 
His kingdom is the convert earth, 

His church all faithful men. 

The Scriptures thus we read ; 

Of strangest powers compiled, 
To mould the heart and clear the creed 

Of earth's frail, clouded child. 

Its essence, not its writ, 

Our sovereign rule we call ; 
. Not fastening down all truth to it, 
But widening it to all. 

With this free reverence, Lord, 

In Christly church estate, 
With earnest, brotherly accord, 

These walls we dedicate 



IOO SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

To prayer and holy thought ; 

Affections set above ; 
To faiths from highest fountains brought, 

And works of widest love. 

Thy presence, Father, make 

The refuge and supply ; 
And for thy Truth and Mercy's sake 

Build on, and sanctify. 



A LAMENT. 

For Rev. William Parsons Lunt, D.D., who died at Akabah, the ancient Ezion-Geber, on 
the Red Sea, March 20, 1857, on his way to the Holy Land. 

A WAIL from beyond the desert ! 
A wail from across the sea ! 
The home he left, 
Bereft, bereft, 
For evermore must be. 

As spread the heavy tidings, 
How many a heart grows sore 

That the eloquent grace 

Of that pensive face 
And that mellow voice is o'er ! 

Alas for thee, O our brother ! 
And for this we sorrow most, 

That a spirit so fair 

Must be breathed out there, 
On that stern Arabian coast : — 

That a life so all unforeign, 
To faith and his country bound, 

Turned dying eyes 

Upon Asian skies, 
And dropped on Moslem ground. 






NATHANIEL L. FROTHINGHAM. IOI 

Away for the Holy City 
With pilgrim soul he trod ; 

But nearer at hand 

Must the pearl gates expand 
Of the city new of God. 

The judgment-peak of Sinai 
Rose now in the homeward West. 

Its shadows grim 

Had no terror for him, 
As he sank to his Christian rest. 

But, oh, that the thoughtful scholar, — 
His mind at its fullest noon, — 

That the preacher's tongue 

And the poet's song 
Should pass away so soon ! 



HYMN FOR THE BLIND. 

f~\ GOD ! to thine all-seeing ken 

The night and day are one ; 
The blackness of earth's deepest den, 
And flaming of the sun. 

Both lend to eyes of mortal race 
Their sweet and mingled aid ; 

And blest in its alternate place 
The shining and the shade. 

For us a cloud is on the sight, 

And Nature's face is hid ; 
Alike untouched by figured light 

The eyeball and the lid. 

So it hath pleased thee, God ! Be each 
Sore plaint and passion still ; 

And holy thoughts kneel down, and teach 
Submission to that will. 



102 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

From all our diminutions, Lord, 
Let trust and love increase ; 

And all our hindrances reward 
With patience and with peace. 

Oh, clear the mind ! Be more and more 

The invisible revealed ; 
And spirits brighten at the door, 
When all without is sealed ! 



PRAYER AND THE DEAD. 

'T^HEY passed away from sight and hand, 

A slow successive train ; 
To memory's heart, a gathered band, 
Our lost ones come again. 

Not back to earth, a second time, 

The mortal path to tread ; 
They walk in their appointed clime, 

The dead, but not the dead. 

Their spirits up to God we gave, 

With eyes as wet as dim ; 
Confiding in his care to save, 

For all do live to him. 

Beyond all we can know or think, 

Beyond the earth and sky, 
Beyond Time's lone and dreaded brink, 

Their deathless dwellings lie. 

Dear thoughts that once our union made, 

Death does not disallow : 
We prayed for them while here they stayed, 

And what shall hinder now ? 

Our Father ! give them perfect day 

And portions with the blest ; 
Oh, pity if they went astray, 

And pardon for the best ! 



HENRY WARE, JR. 103 

As they may need, still deign to bring 

The helping of thy grace ; 
The shadow of thy guardian wing, 

Or shining of thy face. 

For all their sorrows here below 

Be boundless joy and peace ; 
For all their love, a heavenly glow 

That never more shall cease. 

O Lord of souls ! when ours shall part, 

To try the farther birth, 
Let Faith go journeying with the heart 

To those we loved on earth. 

HENRY WARE, Jr. 

(1 794-1843.) 

Rev. Henry Ware, Jr., D.D., was born in Hingham, Mass., April 
21, 1794, and was the eldest son of Rev. Henry Ware, D.D., minister 
of the Unitarian Church in that town, and subsequently, for thirty-five 
years, Hollis Professor of Divinity at Cambridge. Having pursued his 
early studies, first in the schools of his native place then at Duxbury 
under Rev. Dr. Allyn, and afterward under Judge Ware at Cambridge, he 
entered Harvard College in 1808, and graduated with high honor in 181 2. 
He was for two years assistant teacher at the Exeter Academy, meanwhile 
studying theology. Having, still later, more fully prepared himself for 
the ministry under the immediate direction of his father, he was licensed to 
preach by the Boston Association, July 31, 1815 ; and was ordained pastor 
of the Second Church of that city, Jan. 1, 1817. In consequence of ill- 
health, he tendered, in 1828, his resignation ; but his society was unwilling 
to accept it, and elected as his colleague Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson, 
who entered upon his labors as associate minister, March n, 1829. 
During the same year, Mr. Ware was appointed Professor of Pulpit Elo- 
quence and Pastoral Care in the Cambridge Theological School, but 
engaged in the active duties of his new sphere only after he had spent 
nearly a year abroad. He received the degree of D.D. from Harvard 
College in 1834. In the summer of 1842, exhausted by his arduous work 
as a lecturer, preacher, and writer, he withdrew from his important post 
of service, and removed to Framingham, where he died, Sept. 25, 1843. 



104 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

His first marriage was with Miss Elizabeth Watson Waterhouse, 
daughter of Dr. Benjamin Waterhouse, of Cambridge. One of their 
children is Rev. J. F. W. Ware, now minister of the Arlington Street 
Church, Boston. Mrs. Ware died Feb. 9, 1824. The second wife was 
Mary Lovell Pickard, whose Memoir, written by Rev. E. B. Hall, D.D., 
both from the manner in which the work was executed and from the 
beautiful character and life of the woman whom it portrays, has well 
deserved the favor which it has received from the public. 

Professor Ware's numerous theological, religious, and literary produc- 
tions are all marked by great intellectual ability, and by a lofty, consecrated 
spirit and purpose. Previous to 1824, he was for some time the editor of 
the " Christian Disciple," which had been established in 1813, and which, 
in 18 19, became a more pronounced organ of Unitarian views and senti- 
ments. In 1824, while under the editorial care of Rev, John G. Palfrey, 
it took the name of the " Christian Examiner," and continued to receive, 
for many years, Mr. Ware's ardent sympathy and frequent contributions. 
Some months before his death, he was inclined once more to take charge 
of this magazine, and actually laid out a great deal of work with a view 
to its increased circulation and usefulness. But, though he was taken 
away amidst his many plans, and in the very fulness and prime of his 
manhood, he had lived quite long enough to accomplish a wonderful 
service for truth and humanity, as the long list of his valuable writings, 
given in his Memoir, prepared by his brother, John Warfe, M.D., and 
published in 1846, sufficiently shows. Four volumes of his works ap- 
peared from the press in 1847, edited by Rev. Chandler Robbins, who 
succeeded Mr. Emerson as the pastor of the Second Church, and is still 
its minister. His treatise on the " Formation of the Christian Charac- 
ter " and his "Life of the Saviour" have passed through many editions, 
and blessed many souls. Various other volumes, the contents of which 
were afterward included in his collected writings, had been previously 
given to the press during his life ; while not alone the " Christian Dis- 
ciple " and " Christian Examiner," but other periodicals as well, had had 
their pages enriched by the productions, in prose or poetry, of his^gifted 
mind. Wrote Rev. E. S. Gannett, D.D. : " That God had bestowed on 
him the gift of genius, no one who has read the poetic effusions which 
occasion, struck from his glowing mind can doubt." 

In the first of the four volumes of his works are numerous hymns and 
poems which have given him a high rank among American bards. Some 
of the more important of these are, "The Peace of 1815," " The Vision 
of Liberty," "To the Ursa Major," "My Dream of Life," and "Sea- 
sons of Prayer." We select for our pages the last of these, together 
with others of like merit that have had a place, to a greater or less ex- 
tent, in many hymn-books. The following lines appeared in the " Chris- 
tian Disciple," Vol. I. : — 



HENRY WARE, JR. 105 



RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. 

T IFT your glad voices in triumph on high, 
For Jesus hath risen, and man cannot die ; 
Vain were the terrors that gathered around him, 
And short the dominion of death and the grave ; 
He burst from the fetters of darkness that bound him, 
Resplendent in glory, to live and to save : 

Loud was the chorus of angels on high, — 
"The Saviour hath risen, and man cannot die." 

Glory to God, in full anthems of joy ! 

The being he gave us death cannot destroy ! 
Sad were the life we must part with to-morrow, 
If tears were our birthright, and death were our end ; 
But Jesus hath cheered the dark valley of sorrow, 
And bade us, immortal, to heaven ascend : 

Lift, then, your voices in triumph on high, 

For Jesus hath risen, and man shall not die. 



1817. 



THE TRUTH AS IT IS IN JESUS. 

For the ordination of Mr. Jared Sparks as pastor of the Unitarian Church at Balti- 
more, May 5, 1819. 

f^ REAT God, the followers of thy Son, 

We bow before thy mercy-seat 
To worship thee, the Holy One, 
And pour our wishes at thy feet. 

Oh, grant thy blessing here to-day ! 

Oh, give thy people joy and peace ! 
The tokens of thy love display, 

And favor that shall never cease. 

We seek the truth that Jesus brought ; 

His path of light we long to tread ; 
Here be his holy doctrines taught, 

And here their purest influence shed. 



106 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

May faith and hope and love abound ; 

Our sins and errors be forgiven ; 
And we, in thy great day, be found 

Children of God, and heirs of heaven. 



ON OPENING OUR ORGAN. 

Nov. 9, 1822 

A LL Nature's works His praise declare, 
To whom they all belong ; 
There is a voice in every star, 

In every breeze a song. 
Sweet music fills the world abroad 
With strains of love and power ; 
The stormy sea sings praise to God, 
The thunder and the shower. 

To God the tribes of ocean cry, 

And birds upon the wing ; 
To God the powers that dwell on high 

Their tuneful tribute bring. 
Like them, let man the throne surround, 

With them loud chorus raise, 
While instruments of loftier sound 

Assist his feeble praise. 

Great God, to thee we consecrate 

Our voices and our skill ; 
We bid the pealing organ wait 

To speak alone thy will. 
Oh, teach its rich and swelling notes 

To lift our souls on high ; 
And while the music round us floats, 

Let earth-born passion die. 



HENRY WARE, JR. 107 

AROUND THE THRONE. 

Published in the " Christian Disciple," Vol. V. 
Revelation iv. 2, 3, xv. 3. 

A ROUND the throne of God 
The host angelic throngs ; 
They spread their palms abroad, 
And shout perpetual songs. 
Him first they own, 
Him last and best ; 
God ever blest, 
And God alone. 

Their golden crowns they fling 

Before his throne of light, 
And strike the rapturous string, 
Unceasing, day and night : 
" Earth, heaven, and sea, 
Thy praise declare ; 
For thine they are, 
And thine shall be. 

" O holy, holy Lord, 

Creation's sovereign King ! 
Thy majesty adored 
Let all creation sing ; 
Who wast, and art, 
And art to be ; 
Nor time shall see 
Thy sway depart. 

" Great are thy works of praise, 

O God of boundless might ! 
All just and true thy ways, 
Thou King of saints, in light ! 
Let all above, 
And all below, 
Conspire to show 
Thy power and love. 



108 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

" Who shall not fear thee, Lord, 

And magnify thy name ? 

Thy judgments, sent abroad, 

Thy holiness proclaim. 

Nations shall throng 

From every shore, 

And all adore 

In one loud song." 

While thus the powers on high 

Their swelling chorus raise, 

Let earth and man reply, 

And echo back the praise ; 

His glory own, 

First, last, and best ; 

God ever blest, 

And God alone. 
1823. 



SEASONS OF PRAYER. 

r T^O prayer, to prayer ; — for the morning breaks, 

And earth in her Maker's smile awakes. 
His light is on all below and above, — 
The light of gladness, and life, and love. 
Oh, then, on the breath of this early air, 
Send upward the incense of grateful prayer. 

To prayer ; — for the glorious sun is gone, 
And the gathering darkness of night comes on ; 
Like a curtain from God's kind hand it flows, 
To shade the couch where his children repose. 
Then kneel, while the watching stars are bright, 
And give your last thoughts to the Guardian of night. 

To prayer; — for the day that God has blest 
Comes tranquilly on with its welcome rest. 



HENRY WARE, JR. 109 

It speaks of creation's early bloom ; 
It speaks of the Prince who burst the tomb. 
Then summon the spirit's exalted powers, 
And devote to Heaven the hallowed hours. 

There are smiles and tears in the mother's eyes, 

For her new-born infant beside her lies. 

O hour of bliss ! when the heart o'erflows 

With rapture a mother only knows. 

Let it gush forth in words of fervent prayer ; 

Let it swell up to Heaven for her precious care. 

There are smiles and tears in that gathering band, 
Where the heart is pledged with the trembling hand : 
What trying thoughts in her bosom swell, 
As the bride bids parent and home farewell ! 
Kneel down by the side of the tearful pair, 
And strengthen the perilous hour with prayer. 

Kneel down by the sinner's dying side, 
And pray for his soul through Him who died. 
Large drops of anguish are thick on his brow ; 
Oh, what are earth and its pleasures now ! 
And what shall assuage his dark despair, 
But the penitent cry of humble prayer ? 

Kneel down by the couch of departing faith, 

And hear the last words the believer saith. 

He has bidden adieu to his earthly friends ; 

There is peace in his eye that upward bends ■ 

There is peace in his calm, confiding air ; 

For his last thoughts are God's, his last words prayer. 

The voice of prayer at the sable bier ! 

A voice to sustain, to soothe, and to cheer. 

It commends the spirit to God who gave ; 

It lifts the thoughts from the cold, dark grave ; 

It points to the glory where he shall reign, 

Who whispered, " Thy brother shall rise again." 



110 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

The voice of prayer in the world of bliss ! 
But gladder, purer, than rose from this. 
The ransomed shout to their glorious King, 
Where no sorrow shades the soul as they sing ; 
But a sinless and joyous song they raise, 
And their voice of prayer is eternal praise. 

Awake, awake ! and gird up thy strength, 
To join that holy band at length ! 
To him who unceasing love displays, 
Whom the powers of nature unceasingly praise, 
To him thy heart and thy hours be given ; 
For a life of prayer is the life of heaven. 
1826. 



HYMN. 

For an ordination, March, 1829. 

f~\ THOU, who on thy chosen Son 
^ > ^ Didst send thy Spirit like a dove, 
To mark the long expected One, 
And seal the Messenger of love ; 

And, when the heralds of his name 

Went forth his glorious truth to spread, 

Didst send it down in tongues of flame 
To hallow each devoted head, — 

So, Lord, thy servant now inspire 
With holy unction from above ; 

Give him the tongue of living fire, 
Give him the temper of the dove. 

Lord, hear thy suppliant church to-day ! 

Accept our work, our souls possess. 
'Tis ours to labor, watch, and pray ; 

Be thine to cheer, sustain, and bless. 



HENRY WARE, JR. Ill 

THE GOD OF OUR FATHERS. 

For the Centennial Celebration of the Boston Thursday Lecture, Oct- 17, 1833. 

IKE Israel's hosts to exile driven, 
Across the flood the Pilgrims fled ; 
Their hands bore up the ark of Heaven, 

And Heaven their trusting footsteps led, 
Till on these savage shores they trod, 
And won the wilderness for God. 

Then, where their weary ark found rest. 

Another Zion proudly grew, 
In more than Judah's glory dressed, 

With light that Israel never knew. 
From sea to sea her empire spread, 
Her temple heaven, and Christ her head. 

Then let the grateful church, to-day, 
Its ancient rite with gladness keep : 

Our fathers' God ! their children pray 
Thy blessing, though the fathers sleep. 

Oh, bless, as thou hast blessed the past, 

While earth, and time, and heaven shall last ! 

FAMILY MEETING. 

Aug. 20, 1835. 

TN this glad hour, when children meet, 

And home with them their children bring, 
Our hearts with one affection beat, 
One song of praise our voices sing. 

For all the faithful, loved and dear, 

Whom thou so kindly, Lord, hast given ; 

For those who still are with us here, • 
And those who wait for us in heaven ; — 



112 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

For every past and present joy, 

For honor, competence, and health, 

For hopes which time may not destroy, 
Our souls' imperishable wealth : — 

For all, accept our humble praise ; 

Still bless us, Father, by thy love ; 
And when are closed our mortal days, 

Unite us in one home above. 

HYMN IN SICKNESS. 

"pATHER, thy gentle chastisement 

Falls kindly on my burdened soul ; 
I see its merciful intent, 

To warn me back to thy control, 
And pray that, while I kiss the rod, 
I may find perfect peace with God. 

The errors of my heart I know ; 

I feel my deep infirmities ; 
For, often, virtuous feelings glow, 

And holy purposes arise, 
But, like the morning clouds, decay, 
As empty, though as fair, as they. 

Forgive the weakness I deplore, 
And let thy peace abound in me, 

That I may trust my heart no more, 
But wholly cast myself on thee. 

Oh, let my Father's strength be mine, 

And my devoted life be thine ! 

March, 1836. 

HYMN. 

For the dedication of a church, April, 1839. 

TT 7E rear not a temple, like Judah's of old, 

Whose portals were marble, whose vaultings were gold • 
No incense is lighted, no victims are slain, 
No monarch kneels praying to hallow the fane. 



HENRY WARE, JR. 113 

More simple and lowly the walls that we raise, 
And humbler the pomp of procession and praise, 
Where the heart is the altar whence incense shall roll, 
And Messiah the King who shall pray for the soul. 

O Father, come in ! but not in the cloud 

Which filled the bright courts where thy chosen ones 

bowed ; 
But come in that spirit of glory and grace 
Which beams on the soul and illumines the race. 

Oh, come in the power of thy life-giving Word, 
And reveal to each heart its Redeemer and Lord ; 
Till Faith bring the peace to the penitent given, 
And Love fill the air with the fragrance of heaven. 

The pomp of Moriah has long passed away, 
And soon shall our frailer erection decay ; 
But the souls that are builded in worship and love 
Shall be temples to God, everlasting above. 



THE PROGRESS OF FREEDOM. 

This " Anti-Slavery Song " has for us a peculiar interest, not alone from the thrilling 
spirit of power and prophecy that animates it, but from the circumstance that it was Mr. 
Ware's last composition in verse- It bears the date. March 15, 1843. In its original form 
it is longer than as presented here, and is unsuited to a church hymn-book. The fol- 
lowing stanzas, taken from one of the Collections, are a part of the original, altered and 
transposed, and thus adapted to sacred worship : — 

rAPPRESSION shall not always reign ; 

There comes a brighter day, 
When Freedom, burst from every chain, 

Shall have triumphant way. 
Then Right shall over might prevail, 
And Truth, like hero armed in mail, 
The hosts of tyrant wrong assail, 

And hold eternal sway. 

What voice shall bid the progress stay, 

Of truth's victorious car ? 
What arm arrest the growing day, 

Or quench the solar star ? 
8 



114 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

What reckless soul, though stout and strong, 
Shall dare bring back the ancient wrong, 
Oppression's guilty night prolong, 
And freedom's morning bar ? 

The hour of triumph comes apace, 

The fated, promised hour, 
When earth upon a ransomed race 

Her bounteous gifts shall shower. 
Ring, Liberty, thy glorious bell ! 
Bid high thy sacred banner swell ! 
Let trump on trump the triumph tell 

Of Heaven's redeeming power. 



m 

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 

(1794) 

William Cullen Bryant was born, Nov. 3, 1794, at Cummington, 
Hampton County, Mass. It is only necessary here to present the merest 
outline of the career of this venerable and beloved poet, whose name is 
a household word in the homes of the land. His father, Peter Bryant, 
was a physician, well-tr"avelled and highly cultured, who knew how to 
awaken and call forth the mental powers of the gifted son. The latter, 
before he was ten years of age, wrote lines which were published in 
the County Gazette. Other poems, which he competed not long after- 
ward, were printed by his friends ; and when he was only eighteen 
he wrote his immortal "Thanatopsis," which appeared in the ",North 
American Review" in 1817. For two years he was a student at Wil- 
liams College ; then studied law, and, first at Plainfield and next at Great 
Barrington, practised his profession until 1825, when he removed to 
New York, and became the editor of the "New York Review." In 
1826 he associated himself with William Coleman in conducting the 
" Evening Post," and in the following year assumed its entire editorial 
charge. He has continued at this post of service from then until now. 

The first volume of his poems, embracing one on " The Ages," de- 
livered before the Phi Beta Kappa Society at Cambridge, and also some 
other pieces, was published in 1821. From 1827 to 1830 he was one of 
the editors of an annual, " The Talisman," and, about the same time, 



WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 115 

contributed "Medfield" and the "Skeleton's Cave" to a book entitled 
"Tales of the Glauber Spa." In 1832 appeared a complete edition 
of his poems, which Washington Irving caused to be reprinted in Lon- 
don, and which gave the author at once a high literary reputation in 
England. From time to time, during subsequent years, he visited Eu- 
rope, and in one of his trips extended his journey to the distant East, 
giving the results of many of his observations in numerous letters to the 
press, which were afterward republished in a collected form. In a more 
recent visit he was an object of marked attention among influential cir- 
cles in the Old World. The fresh volumes of his poetry and prose, and 
the handsome and enlarged editions of his works, which have been given to 
the public at intervals, through all the later years of his life, as well as 
the fine, graceful, classic orations and speeches, essays and reviews, 
which have marked the whole progress of his literary career, have been 
too numerous, if they are not also too well known, to be recounted here. 
Nor need it be said that his style is a model for purity, elegance, and 
strength of expression, his thought chaste, profound, and reverent, and 
his imagination of marvellous sweep and power, while every play of his 
fancy or flow of his eloquence is restrained and chastened by the severest 
taste and by an instinctive love of truth. 

The spirit which informs Mr. Bryant's writings is in the man himself. 
There is a fine harmony between the stainless and lofty characters and 
lives, and all the beautiful and imperishable productions of our greatest 
American poets. In the eldest of them, as in the rest, we see an un- 
sullied soul, the truest love of nature and art, an exquisite yet vital sym- 
pathy with human sorrow and suffering, the deepest abhorrence of 
injustice and the most intense devotion to liberty and right, and the 
most habitual communion with the things that are unseen and eternal. 

Dividing his time between the busy cares of his professional life in 
New York and the more retired retreat of his embowered " old-time 
mansion " in Roslyn, on Long Island, our poet has sung many a sacred 
song that is sure of a permanent place in the hymn-books of the church. 
From a little book which he printed in 1864, and which included only 
such pieces as may properly be called hymns, and from other volumes 
of his works, we make the following selections. The first two were 
written for ordination services more than fifty years ago. 



'THE LORD GIVETH WISDOM. 

"VJIGHTY One, before whose face 
Wisdom had her glorious seat, 
When the orbs that people space 
Sprang to birth beneath thy feet ! 



Il6 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Source of Truth, whose beams alone 
Light the mighty world of mind ! 

God of Love, who, from thy throne, 
Watchest over all mankind ! 

Shed on those who, in thy name, 
Teach the way of Truth and Right, 

Shed that Love's undying flame, 
Shed that Wisdom's guiding light. 



"THY WORD IS TRUTH." 

f~\ THOU, whose Love can ne'er forget 
^^^ Its offspring, Great Eternal Mind ! 
We thank thee that thy truth is yet 
A sojourner among mankind ; 

A light before whose brightness fall 
The feet arrayed to tread it down, 

A voice whose strong and solemn call 
The cry of nations cannot drown. 

Thy servants, at this sacred hour, 

With humble prayer thy throne surround, 

That here, in glory and in power, 

That light may shine, that voice may sound, 

Till Error's shades shall flee away, 
And Faith, descending from above, 

Amid the pure and perfect day, 
Shall bring her fairer sister Love. 



The next three hymns, with two others also by Mr. Bryant, were 
written at the instance of Miss Sedgwick for a Collection made in 1820 
by Henry D. Sewall and long used in the church of which Rev. William 
Ware was formerly the pastor, and which for so many years has been 
in the charge of Rev. H. W. Bellows, D.D. 



WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. WJ 



"HIS TENDER MERCIES ARE OVER ALL HIS 
WORKS." 

QUR Father, to thy love we owe 
^^^ All that is fair and good below. 
Life, and the health that makes- life sweet, 
Are blessings from thy mercy-seat. 

O Giver of the quickening rain ! 
O Ripener of the golden grain ! 
From thee the cheerful dayspring flows, 
Thy balmy evening brings repose. 

Thy frosts arrest, thy tempests chase 
The plagues that waste our helpless race ; 
Thy softer breath, o'er land and deep, 
Wakes Nature from her winter sleep. 

Yet deem we not that thus alone 
Thy bounty and thy love are shown ; 
For we have learned with higher praise 
And holier names to speak thy ways. 

In woe's dark hour our kindest stay, 
Sole trust when life shall pass away, 
Teacher of hopes that light the gloom 
Of Death, and consecrate the tomb. 

Patient with headstrong guilt to bear, 
Slow to avenge and kind to spare, 
Listening to prayer and reconciled 
Full soon to thy repentant child. 



BLESSED ARE THEY THAT MOURN. 

T^EEM not that they are blest alone 

Whose days a peaceful tenor keep ; 
The God who loves our race has shown 
A blessing for the eyes that weep. 



Il8 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

The light of smiles shall fill again 
The lids that overflow with tears, 

And weary hours of woe and pain 
Are promises of happier years. 

Oh, there are days of sunny rest 
For every dark and troubled night ; 

And Grief may bide, an evening guest, 
But Joy shall come with early light. • 

And thou, who o'er thy friend's low bier, 
Dost shed the bitter drops like rain, 

Hope that a brighter, happier sphere 
Will give him to thy arms again. 

Nor let the good man's trust depart, 
Though life its common gifts deny ; 

Though, with a pierced and broken heart, 
And spurned of men, he goes to die. 

For God hath marked each sorrowing day, 
And numbered every secret tear, 

And heaven's long age of bliss shall pay 
For all his children suffer here. 



"A BROKEN AND A CONTRITE HEART, O GOD, 
THOU WILT NOT DESPISE." 

f~\ GOD, whose dread and dazzling brow 

Love never yet forsook ! 
On those who seek thy presence now, 
In deep compassion look. 

Aid our weak steps and eyesight dim 

The paths of peace to find, 
And lead us all to learn of Him 

Who died to save mankind. 



WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 119 

For many a frail and erring heart 

Is in thy holy sight, 
And feet too willing to depart 

From the plain way of right. 

Yet, pleased the humble prayer to hear, 

And kind to all that live, 
Thou, when thou seest the contrite tear, 

Art ready to forgive. 



"HOW AMIABLE ARE THY TABERNACLES. 



Written for the dedication of a church in Prince Street, New York City. The edifice 
was afterwards destroyed by fire. 



HPHOU, whose unmeasured temple stands, 

Built over earth and sea, 
Accept the walls that human hands 
Have raised, O God ! to thee. 



And let the Comforter and Friend, 

Thy Holy Spirit, meet 
With those who here in worship bend 

Before thy mercy-seat. 

May they who err be guided here 

To find the better way, 
And they who mourn and they who fear 

Be strengthened as they pray. 

May faith grow firm, and love grow warm, 

And hallowed wishes rise, 
While round these peaceful w r alls the storm 

Of earth-born passion dies. 



120 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

"I WILL SEND THEM PROPHETS AND APOSTLES." 

Written, probably, for some church in England. 

A LL that in this wide world we see, 

Almighty Father ! speaks of thee ; 
And in the darkness, or the day, 
Thy monitors surround our way. 

The fearful storms that sweep the sky, 
The maladies by which we die, 
The pangs that make the guilty groan, 
Are angels from thy awful throne. 

Each mercy sent when sorrows lower, 
Each blessing of the winged hour, 
All we enjoy and all we love, 
Bring with them lessons from above. 

Nor thus content, thy gracious hand, 
From midst the children of the land, 
Hath raised, to stand before our race, 
Thy living messengers of grace. 

We thank thee that so clear a ray 
, Shines on thy straight, thy chosen way, 
And pray that passion, sloth, or pride, 
May never lure our steps aside. 

"THOU, GOD, SEEST ME." 

Written for a Collection of hymns at the end of a Sunday School Liturgy, prepared by 
Mr. James Lombard, of Utica, N. Y., in 1859. 

Tl^HEN this song of praise shall cease, 

Let thy children, Lord, depart 
With the blessing of thy peace 
And thy love in every heart. 



WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 121 

Oh, where'er our path may lie, 

Father, let us not forget 
That we walk beneath thine eye, 

That thy care upholds us yet. 

Blind are we, and weakj and frail : 

Be thine aid forever near ; 
May the fear to sin prevail 

Over every other fear. 



THE MOTHER'S HYMN. 

"Blessed art thou a'mong women." 

Written at the suggestion of Rev. Samuel Osgood, CD., and included in the service- 
book entitled " Christian Worship," which he and Rev. F. A. Farley, D.D., compiled. 

ORD, who ordainest for mankind 
Benignant toils and tender cares, 
We thank thee for the ties that bind 
The mother to the child she bears. 

We thank thee for the hopes that rise 

Within her heart, as day by day 
The dawning soul, from those young eyes, 

Looks with a clearer, steadier ray. 

And, grateful for the blessing given 
With that dear infant on her knee, 

She trains the eye to look to heaven, 
The voice to lisp a prayer to thee. 

Such thanks the blessed Mary gave 
When from her lap the Holy Child, 

Sent from on high to seek and save 

The lost of earth, looked up and smiled. 

All-Gracious ! grant to those who bear 
A mother's charge, the strength and light 

To guide the feet that own their care 
In ways of Love, and Truth, and Right. 



122 SOJVGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

COMMUNION HYMN. 

" Do this in remembrance of me." 

A LL praise to Him of Nazareth, 
The Holy One who came, 
For love of man, to die a death 
Of agony and shame. 

Dark was the grave ; but since he lay 

Within its dreary cell, 
The beams of heaven's eternal day 

Upon its threshold dwelf. 

He grasped the iron veil, he drew 

Its gloomy folds aside, 
And opened, to his followers' view, 

The glorious world they hide. 

In tender memory of his grave 
The mystic bread we take, 

And muse upon the life he gave 
So freely for our sake. 

A boundless love he bore mankind ; 

Oh, may at least a part 
Of that strong love descend and find 

A place in every heart. 



"THOU HAST PUT ALL THINGS UNDER HIS 
FEET." 

r\ NORTH, with all thy vales of green I 

Oh South, with all thy palms ! 
From peopled towns and fields between 

Uplift the voice of psalms. 
Raise, ancient East, the anthem high, 
And let the youthful West reply. 



WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 12$ 

Lo ! in the clouds of heaven appears 

God's well-beloved Son ; 
He brings a train of brighter years ; 

His kingdom is begun. 
He comes a guilty world to bless 
With mercy, truth, and righteousness. 

Oh Father ! haste the promised hour, 

When, at His feet, shall lie 
All rule, authority, and power, 

Beneath the ample sky : 
When He shall reign from pole to pole, 
The Lord of every human soul : 

When all shall heed the words He said, 

Amid their daily cares, 
And, by the loving life He led, 

Shall strive to pattern theirs ; 
And He, who conquered Death, shall win 
The mightier conquest over Sin. 

Of the nineteen hymns that form the contents of the small volume to 
which we have alluded in our brief sketch as having been printed in 1864, 
we have copied eleven, as above. The remaining eight are thus indicated 
by their first lines, the occasions for which they were written being also 
given. The two others of the five which were contributed to Mr. 
Sewall's Collection, and which we have previously referred to, are, 
"Almighty! hear thy children raise," and "When he who from the 
scourge of wrong." "Ancient of Days ! except thou deign," was writ- 
ten for the dedication of Rev. R. C. Waterston's church, in Boston ; 
"Lord, from whose glorious presence came," at the request of a friend, 
Mr. Hiram Barney, for the opening of an Orthodox Congregational 
Church; "Look from the sphere of endless day," for some Foreign 
Missionary Anniversary. The last five hymns in the little volume were 
written purposely for the book itself. Two of these were the last two 
presented above ; the other three are, "As o'er the cradle of her Son," 
"Whate'er he bids, observe and do," and "Go forth, O Word of 
Christ ! go forth." 

The following pieces, except the last, are copied from a recent beau- 
tiful miniature edition of Mr. Bryant's poems, issued by his publishers, 
D. Appleton & Co. However familiar they may be to our readers, they 
can ill be spared from the present volume. 



124 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH, 



THE PAST. 

npHOU unrelenting Past ! 

Strong are the barriers round thy dark domain, 

And fetters, sure and fast, 
Hold all that enter thy unbreathing reign. 

Far in thy realm withdrawn 
Old empires sit in sullenness and gloom, 

And glorious ages gone 
Lie deep within the shadow of thy womb. 

Childhood, with all its mirth, 
Youth, Manhood, Age that draws us to the ground, 

And last, Man's Life on earth, 
Glide to thy dim dominions, and are bound. 

Thou hast my better years ; 
Tliou hast my earlier friends, the good, the kind, 

Yielded to thee with tears — 
The venerable form — the exalted mind. 

My spirit yearns to bring 
The lost ones back — yearns with desire intense, 

And struggles hard to wring 
Thy bolts apart, and pluck thy captives thence. 

In vain ; thy gates deny 
All passage save to those who hence depart ; 

Nor to the streaming eye 
Thou giv'st them back — nor to the broken heart. 

In thy abysses hide 
Beauty and excellence unknown ; to thee 

Earth's wonder and her pride 
Are gathered, as the waters to the sea ; 

Labors of good to man, 
Unpublished charity, unbroken faith, 

Love, that midst grief began, 
And grew with years, and faltered not in death. 



WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 12$ 

Full many a mighty name 
Lurks in thy depths, un uttered, unrevered ; 

With thee are silent fame, 
Forgotten arts, and wisdom disappeared. 

Thine for a space are they — 
Yet shalt thou yield thy treasures up at last : 

Thy gates shall yet give way, 
Thy bolts shall fall, inexorable Past ! 

All that of good and fair 
Has gone into thy womb from earliest time, 

Shall then come forth to wear 
The glory and the beauty of its prime. 



They have not perished — No ! 
Kind w T ords, remembered voices once so sweet 

Smiles, radiant long ago, 
And features, the great soul's apparent seat. 



All shall come back ; each tie 
Of pure affection shall be knit again ; 

Alone shall Evil die, 
And Sorrow dwell a prisoner in thy reign. 

And then shall I behold 
Him, by whose kind paternal side I sprung, 

And her, who, still and cold, 
Fills the next grave — the beautiful and young. 



THE FUTURE LIFE. 

r* 

"LTOW shall I know thee in the sphere which keeps 

The disembodied spirits of the dead, 
When all of thee that time could wither sleeps 
And perishes among the dust we tread ? 



126 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain 
If there I meet thy gentle presence not ; 

Nor hear the voice I love, nor read again ' 
In thy serenest eyes the tender thought. 

Will not thy own meek heart demand me there ? 

That heart whose fondest throbs to me were given 
My name on earth was ever in thy prayer, 

And wilt thou never utter it in heaven ? 

In meadows fanned by heaven's life-breathing wind, 
In the resplendence of that glorious sphere, 

And larger movements of the unfettered mind, 
Wilt thou forget the love that joined us here ? 

The love that lived through all the srormy past, 
And meekly with my harsher nature bore, 

And deeper grew, and tenderer to the last, 
Shall it expire with life, and be no more ? 

A happier lot than mine, and larger light, 

Await thee there, for thou hast bowed thy will 

In cheerful homage to the rule of right, 
And lovest all, and renderest good for ill. 

For me, the sordid cares in which I dwell 

Shrink and consume my heart, as heat the scroll ; 

And wrath has left its scar — that fire of hell 
Has left its frightful scar upon my soul. 

Yet, though thou wear'st the glory of the sky, 
Wilt thou not keep the same beloved name, 

The same fair thoughtful brow, and gentle eye, 
Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate,, yet the same ? 

Shalt thou not teach me, in that calmer home, 
The wisdom that I learned so ill in this — 

The wisdom which is love — till I become 
Thy fit companion in that land of bliss ? 



WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 12J 



THE CONQUEROR'S GRAVE. 

TT7TTHIN this lowly grave a conqueror lies, 
And yet the monument proclaims it not, 
Nor round the sleeper's name hath chisel wrought 

The emblems of a fame that never dies, 
Ivy and amaranth, in a graceful sheaf, 
Twined with the laurel's fair, imperial leaf. 
A simple name alone, 
To the great world unknown, 
Is graven here, and wild-flowers, rising round, 
Meek meadow-sweet and violets of the ground 
Lean lovingly against the humble stone. 

Here, in the quiet earth, they laid apart 

No man of iron mould and bloody hands, 
Who sought to wreak upon the cowering lands 

The passions that consumed his restless heart ; 
But one of tender spirit and delicate frame, 
Gentlest, in mien and mind, 
Of gentle womankind, 
Timidly shrinking from the breath of blame : 
One in whose eyes the smile of kindness made 

Its haunt, like flowers by sunny brooks in May, 
Yet, at the thought of others' pain, a shade 

Of sweeter sadness chased the smile away. 

Nor deem that when the hand that moulders here 
Was raised in menace, realms were chilled with fear, 

And armies mustered at the sign, as when 
Clouds rise on clouds before the rainy East — 

Gray captains leading bands of veteran men 
And fiery youths to be the vulture's feast. 
Not thus were waged the mighty wars that gave 
The victory to her who fills this grave : 
Alone her task was wrought, 
Alone the battle fought ; 
Through that long strife her constant hope was staid 
On God alone, nor looked for other aid. 



128 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

She met the hosts of Sorrow with a look 

That altered not beneath the frown they wore, 
And soon the lowering brood were tamed, and took, 

Meekly, her gentle rule, and frowned no more. 
Her soft hand put aside the assaults of wrath, 
And calmly broke in twain 
The fiery shafts of pain, 
And rent the nets of passion from her path. 

By that victorious hand despair was slain. 
With love she vanquished hate and overcame 

Evil with good in her Great Master's name. 

Her glory is not of this shadowy state, 

Glory that with the fleeting season dies ; 
But when she entered at the sapphire gate 

What joy was radiant in celestial eyes ! 
How heaven's bright depths with sounding welcome rung, 
And flowers of heaven by shining hands were flung. 
And He who, long before, 
Pain, scorfi, and sorrow bore, 
The Mighty Sufferer, with aspect sweet, 
Smiled on the timid stranger from his seat ; 
He who returning, glorious, from the grave, 
Dragged Death, disarmed, in chains, a crouching slave. 

See, as I linger here, the sun grows low ; 

Cool airs are murmuring that the night is near. 
Oh gentle sleeper, from thy grave I go 

Consoled though sad, in hope and yet in fear. 
Brief is the time, I know, 
The warfare scarce begun ; 
Yet all may win the triumphs thou hast won. 
Still flows the fount whose waters strengthened thee ; 

The victors' names are yet too few to fill 
Heaven's mighty roll ; the glorious armory, 

That ministered to thee, is open still. 



April, 1865. 



WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. \ 29 



THE DEATH OF LINCOLN. 

(^)H, slow to smite and swift to spare, 

Gentle and merciful and just ! 
Who, in the fear of God, didst bear 

The sword of power, — a nation's trust ! 

In sorrow by thy bier we stand, 

Amid the awe that hushes all, 
And speak the anguish of a land 

That shook with horror at thy fall. 

Thy task is done : the bond are free : 
We bear thee to an honored grave, 

Whose proudest monument shall be 
The broken fetters of the slave. 

Pure was thy life : its bloody close 

Hath placed thee with the sons of light, 

Among the noble host of those 

Who perished in the cause of Right. 



"RECEIVE THY SIGHT." 

TT7HEN the blind suppliant in the way, 

By friendly hands to Jesus led, 
Prayed to behold the light of day, 

" Receive thy sight," the Saviour said. 

At once he saw the pleasant rays 
That lit the glorious firmament ; 

And, with firm step and words of praise, 
He followed where the Master went. 

Look down in pity, Lord, we pray, 
On eyes oppressed by moral night, 

And touch the darkened lids, and say 
The gracious words, " Receive thy sight. 
9 



130 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Then, in clear daylight, shall we see 
Where walked the sinless Son of God ; 

And, aided by new strength from' thee, 
Press onward in the path he trod. 

Mr. Bryant has kindly sent us, as an additional contribution to this 
volume, the following exquisite lines, which were written about forty 
•years since for some charitable occasion, and which he lately found 
among his old papers. They are not among his published poems. 

MUTUAL KINDNESS. 

TP\EAR ties of mutual succor bind 
The children of our feeble race, 
And, if our brethren were not kind, 

This earth were but -a weary place. 
We lean on others as we walk 

Life's twilight path with pitfalls strewn ; 
And 'twere an idle boast to talk 

Of treading that dim path alone. 

Amid the snares misfortune lays 

Unseen, beneath the steps of all, 
Blest is the Love that seeks to raise 

And stay and strengthen those who fall ; 
Till, taught by Him who, for our sake. 

Bore every form of Life's distress, 
With every passing year we make 

The sum of human sorrows less. 

SAMUEL B. SUMNER. 

(I797-) 

Samuel Barrett Sumner was born in Boston, March 4, 1797. He 
was baptized by Rev. Peter Thacher, D.D., pastor of the Brattle 
Street Church, at which his parents continued to worship until the 
family removed to Brighton, Mass., in 1811. He early enjoyed but lim- 



SAMUEL B. SUMNER. 131 

ited advantages for education. When about thirty-three years old, he 
visited Louisville, Ky., for business purposes, and became a Sunday- 
School teacher and assistant superintendent in the then rising Unitarian 
Church of that place, where his first pastor was Rev. James Freeman 
Clarke, and his next, Rev. John H. Heywood, who is still minister of 
the society. He married, in July, 1830, Miss Harriet Farmer, of his 
native city, whither, at length, he returned to live. He now resides at 
Brookline, but is connected, in various important offices, with the church 
and Sunday school of the Bulfinch Place Chapel in Boston. His mother, 
who was a daughter of Judge Barrett, lived to see four of her sons occu- 
pying prominent positions and rendering a faithful service in the work 
of the religious instruction of the young. 

Mr. Sumner is a stencil-maker, and is of the firm of Sumner & Sons. 
Unknown to fame, his worth is fitly set before us by these words of a 
friend : " Meek and gentle, he has, nevertheless, borne all the trials and 
vicissitudes of a long life — not a few — with manliness and fortitude. 
His only recreation, so far as I know, is the composition of a hymn. 
When one is finished to his liking, he sends it to the ' Boston Tran- 
script.' Copies are afterward struck off, and distributed by him among 
his pupils, friends, and others, as opportunity occurs. They are simple, 
sweet, and Christian." Rev. Dr. Furness has described them as "musi- 
cal, tender, and devout." 

Those which we present have all been written since April I, 1864, and 
none of them, we believe, are to be found in any collection of hymns or 
other book. We copy the following lines from the " Home Journal " 
(June 18, 1864), of which N. P. Willis was then editor. They are there 
introduced with these words : " There is here and there, among what is 
commonly called fugitive poetry, — verses published without signa- 
tures and in the corner of a newspaper, — an instance of what is imme- 
diately understood as the inspired voice of the devout heart." Two of 
these clippings the editor proceeds to give to the reader ; and this one 
of them, by Mr. Sumner, he characterizes as " a wonderfully simple and 
truthful expression of a heart at prayer : " — 



PENITENCE. 

"pATHER, I see my wrong : 

I have too often swerved ; 
And yet thy gifts are multiplied 
As if they were deserved. 

My Father, I adore ; 

How patient thou hast been ! 
How long hast thou forborne and paused 

To chide me for my sin ! 



132 SONGS of the liberal faith. 

I do not feel this pain, 
Because I fear thy wrath, 

But that I have so tried thy love 
In wandering from the path. 

I know that thou dost love ; 

I know thou canst forgive ; 
I know it through my faith in Him 

" Who died that I might live." 

And though I am so weak — 
So prone to part from thee — 

If I but strive to do thy will, 

" The truth shall make me free." 

Then in the closed retreat, 
And in the public mart, 

Be it my earnest wish to be 
Patient and pure in heart. 

Oh, let me not forget 
That thou art ever nigh ; 

That I can never hide or shun 
The notice of thine eye. 

I leave these transient joys ; 

They are not what they seem : 
No longer will I seek to own 

A phantom and a dream. 

Dear Father, then forgive ! 

I yield my all to thee ; 
And never more will deviate, 

If thou wilt strengthen me. 

April 8, 1864. 



SAMUEL B. SUMNER. 133 



The pieces which follow are copied mostly from the printed slips to 
which reference has been made in the sketch above : — 



"ONLY BELIEVE." 

TESUS said with soothing voice. 

Brother, hast thou made thy choice, 
Art thou striving to be free, 
Earnestly to follow me ? 

Does thy heart in me believe ; 
When thou sinnest dost thou grieve ? 
Heed'st the Monitor within 
When he chides thee for thy sin ? 

If thy fellow-men transgress 
And revile thee, dost thou bless ? 
Meekly intercede for all, 
Fearing lest thyself may fall ? 

Canst thou estimate the love 
That could send me from above, 
To reveal a Father's face 
Yearning for a fallen race ? 

Doth such love thy bosom fill ? 
Meekly yielding to his will, 
Dost the golden rule observe, 
Others, not thyself, to serve ? 

Then thou dost believe in me, 
And art mine, art saved, art free ! 
Brother, thou art born again — 
Shalt Eternal Life attain. 

May 27, 1865. 



134 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



THE FAMILY ALTAR. 



" Thy home is with the humble, Lord ! 

The simple are thy rest, 
Thy lodging is in childlike hearts ; 

Thou makest there thy nest." 

Faber. 



\\ 7 HEN all things thou hast made 

Thy wondrous love declare, 
We would come now, our Father dear, 
To breathe a grateful prayer. 

In humble trust we come, 

Believing in thy Son, 
Conscious how often we have erred — 

Of what we've left undone. 

Forgive our many sins, 

O Father, we implore ! 
And let thy holy presence still 

These erring feet restore. 

To-day we would be thine, 

Whate'er our trials be ; 
Earnest in every thing to do 

Only what pleases thee. 

May all who love thy truth 

Unite with one accord, 
Converting nations in the name 

Of Jesus Christ, our Lord. 

Nov. 20, 1865. 



"LOVEST THOU ME?" 

T AIM to follow thee, 

Jesus, my guide and friend ; 
Thou art my love, my joy, my hope, 

" In thee my wishes end." 



Dec 20, 1866. 



SAMUEL B. SUMNER. J 35 

Thy hand is on my head, 

I lean upon thy breast ; 
I hear thee whisper in my heart, — 

Come and enjoy my rest. 

I know that thou art mine ; 

Thy promises are true : 
Dear Jesus, to abide in thee 

Doth all my strength renew. 

When I forget myself, 

And see what others need, 
And comfort all who ask my aid, — 

Then am I thine indeed. 

And when in all thy ways 

My willing heart accords, 
Thou dost impart a peacefulness 

No other source affords. 

I would be more like thee, 

" And give my follies o'er ; " 
O Saviour, Saviour ! say to me, 

" Go thou, and sin no more 1 " 



The " Boston Transcript," in publishing the following lines, alludes 
to the author as "one whose tenderness of sentiment, childlike devotion, 
and quaint simplicity, give a winning charm to his heart-inspired 
verses : " — 

SPRING TIME. 

" No earthly father loves like thee, 
No mother half so mild — " 

Faber. 

f~^ IVE me, O Lord, a thankful heart, 

For all thy love and care ; 
The countless wonders of the spring 
Are thronging everywhere. 



13^ SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Thou makest the warm sun to shine, 
To give thy children food ; 

And rainest on men — all alike — 
The evil and the good. 

The joyous birds and cheerful flowers 

Thy constant favor see ; 
And if thou carest so for them, 

Oh, how much more for me ! 

How numberless the benefits 

Thy daily favor brings ; 
When I am thine and thou art mine, 

I shall possess all things ! 

Seek first the heavenly kingdom, then 
And have no anxious fear ; 



May 1, 1867. 



For every want He will provide, 
All thy entreaties hear. 



DEDICATION HYMN. 

Sung at the dedication of Rev. S. H. Winkley's New Sunday-School Room, corner of 
Bulfinch Place, Boston, Mass. 

"jZj^ATHER, accept these sacred walls 

Which now to thee are given, 
And may the deeds which we perform 
Lead many souls to heaven. 

With growing zeal may we pursue 

The works our Master taught ; 
And every kingdom of the world 

Into his own be brought. 

And when, our work on earth all done, 

We stand before thy face, 
Continue what is here begun 

In thine own dwelling-place. 

Dec. 22, 1869. 



WILLIAM B. O. PEABODY. 1 37 



"THE GOOD FATHER." 

" Whene'er he sees a smile too bright, 
Or heart too pure for taint or vice, 
He bears it to that world of light, 
To dwell in paradise." 

T OVING Father, heavenly King, 
Hear the praises that we sing ; 
Let the thanks we offer here 
Ever in our lives appear. 

Though we often disobey, 
Thou dost hear the prayers we pray ; 
Wilt increase our heart's desire 
To receive the sacred fire ! 

Strength of him who did thy will, 
Help us all thy law fulfil — 
Do in all our deeds and thought 
As the dear Redeemer taught. 



Allston, Mass., Aug., 1872. 



WILLIAM B. O. PEABODY. 

(1799-1847-) 

Rev. William Bourne Oliver Peabody, D.D., was born in Exeter, 
N.H., July 9, 1799. Having pursued his preparatory studies mainly at 
the Academy in his native town, be entered Harvard College when but 
fourteen years of age, graduating in 1817. After serving for a year as 
an assistant of Dr. Adams at the Exeter Academy, he studied Theology 
under Dr. Henry Ware, at the Cambridge Divinity School, and began to 
preach in 181 9. He was ordained pastor of the Unitarian Church in 
Springfield, Mass., in October, 1820. This was his only settlement, and 
here he remained until his death, May 28, 1847. The degree of D.D. was 
conferred upon him by Harvard College in 1842. Gentle and retiring in 
spirit, he was yet enterprising and active in many useful pursuits. Fond 
of natural scenery, he gave much attention to landscape gardening, and 
was chiefly instrumental in securing for Springfield its beautiful cemetery, 
whose grounds he assisted in adorning even with his own daily toil, and 
whose consecration address he wrote and delivered in his own happiest 
style. The pages of the " North American Review " and of the " Chris- 



138 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

tian Examiner " were enriched by many of his religious and literary 
contributions, and by others which he wrote upon Natural History, a 
branch of study for which he was very partial. At the request of the 
Massachusetts Legislature, he prepared a very useful Report on the 
Birds of the Commonwealth, and also furnished for Sparks's "American 
Biography" a memoir of Alexander Wilson, the ornithologist. After 
his death, a volume was issued containing a memoir of him, written by 
his twin brother, Rev. O. W. B. Peabody, with selections from his ser- 
mons. In 1850 another volume was published, entitled "Literary Re- 
mains," in which appear not only some of his literary articles and papers 
on Natural History, but also selections from his poems. The " Record 
of Unitarian Worthies" speaks very justly of Dr. Peabody as "a man 
of rare accomplishments and consummate virtue, whose whole life was 
a marked commentary on the maxim of Bacon, — ' Certainly it is heaven 
upon earth to have a man's mind move in charity, rest in Providence, and 
turn upon the poles of truth.' " 

Dr. Peabody was possessed of a lively imagination and of a fine lyric 
power, and wrote some beautiful hymns and other poems which will long 
hold their place in the best American Literature. In 1823 he published 
a " Catechism " for the use of children, written inverse, with some short 
sacred poems annexed. This little paper-covered book, prepared for 
the Home and the Sunday School, has long been out of print, and it is 
difficult to obtain a copy of it. Yet it has a peculiar interest for us, 
since its entire contents, consisting of twenty-three or twenty-four 
hymns, were Dr. Peabody's own productions, and since most of the few 
cherished songs of this poet-preacher, which have found their way into 
the Collections, here first made their appearance. There are other pieces 
here which are so well worthy of their author, and which are so un- 
known, at least, to recent hymn-books or compilations of poetry, that we 
think the reader will be glad to have us transfer a large part of this 
Catechism to our pages. Dr. Peabody prepared and published, in 1835, 
for the use of his own church, what is usually styled the " Springfield 
Collection ; " but his characteristic modesty prevented him from admitting 
any considerable number of his own inspired songs, and even those 
which he contributed to the volume were inserted without his name. 

In copying some of these hymns, we give the questions to which they 
are written as replies, together with the numbers that indicate their 
order in the Catechism. 

Question I. Who made you 1 

Answer. 
The God in whom I ever trust 
Hath made my body from the dust : 
He gave me life, he gave me breath, 
And he preserves me still from death. 



WILLIAM B. O. PEA BODY. 1 39 

Question II. What else hath God made? 

Answer. 

He made the sun, and gave him light ; 
He made the moon to shine by night ; 
He placed the brilliant stars on high, 
And leads them through the midnight sky. 

He made the earth in order stand, 
He made the ocean and the land ; 
He made the hills their places know, 
And gentle rivers round them flow. 

He made the forests, and sustains 
The grass that clothes the fields and plains : 
He sends from heaven the summer showers, 
And makes the meadows bright with flowers. 

He made the living things ; with care 
He feeds the wanderers of the air ; 
He gave the beasts their dens and caves, 
And fish their dwelling in the waves. 

He called all beings into birth 
That crowd the ocean, air, and earth ; 
And all in heaven and earth proclaim 
The glory of his holy name. 



Question XI. What can you tell me concerning sin'i 

Answer. 

I sin whenever I pursue 

What God commands me not to do ; 

I sin too, if I ever shun 

What he hath told me must be done. 



140 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Thus have I often sinned, and still 
Offend against his holy will : 
I know my duty, but my heart 
Will always from its rules depart. 

Oh ! let me then confess my sin, 
And all the faults I hide within ; 
And let my erring heart deplore 
Its follies, and do wrong no more. 

If I sincerely now repent, 
And trust in him whom Heaven hath sent, 
He will remove the threatening rod, 
And bear me to the arms of God. 



Question XII. What has Jesus Christ done for you ? 

Answer. 

For us God's only Son, 

From childhood to the grave, 

Was poorer than the humblest one 
Of those he came to save. 

For us he was distrest, 

And many a tear he shed ; 
And had, in his few hours of rest, 

Not where to lay his head. 

For us the Saviour died 

In weariness and pain ; 
And God forbid the crimson tide 

Should be poured out in vain ! 

He rested in the tomb 

Where mouldering bodies lie, 

Till the third morning broke the gloom, 
And he ascended high. 



WILLIAM B. O. PEABODY. 14I 

Now in the heaven above 

He sits beside the throne, 
And there implores his Father's love 

For those who wronged his own. 



Question XIV. What do you learn of the Future State 
of Happiness ? 

Answer. 

Oh, when the hours of life are past, 
And death's dark shade arrives at last, 
It is not sleep, — it is not rest, — 
'Tis glory opening to the blest. 

Their way to heaven was pure from sin, 
And Christ shall there receive them in ; 
There each shall wear a robe of light 
Like his, divinely fair and bright. 

There parted hearts again shall meet 
In union holy, calm, and sweet ; 
There grief find rest, and never more 
Shall sorrow call them to deplore. 

There angels will unite their prayers 
With spirits bright and blest as theirs, 
And light shall glance on every- crown 
From suns that never more go down. 

No storms shall ride the troubled air, 
No voice of passion enter there ; 
But all be peaceful as the sigh 
Of evening gales that breathe and die. 

For there the God of mercy sheds 
His purest influence on their heads, 
And gilds the spirits round the throne 
With glory radiant as his own. 



142 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

The following are all the hymns which are annexed to the Catechism 
proper : — 

SPRING. 

VXTHEN brighter suns and milder skies 

Proclaim the opening year, 
What various sounds of joy arise ! 
What prospects bright appear ! 

Earth and her thousand voices give 

Their thousand notes of praise ; 
And all that by his mercy live 

To God their offering raise. 

Forth walks the laborer to his toil, 

And sees the fresh array 
Of verdure clothe the flowery soil 

Along his careless way. 

The streams, all beautiful and bright, 

Reflect the morning sky ; 
And there, with music in his flight, 

The wild bird soars on high. 

Thus, like the morning, calm and clear, 

That saw the Saviour rise, 
The spring of heaven's eternal year 

Shall dawn on earth and skies. 

No winter there, no shades of night 

Profane those mansions blest, 
Where, in the happy fields of light, 

The weary are at rest. 



SUMMER. 

TLTOW fast the rapid hours retire ! 

How soon the spring was done ! 
And now no cloud keeps off the fire 
Of the bright-burning sun. 



WILLIAM B. 0. PEABODY. 143 

The slender flower-bud dreads to swell 

In that unclouded blue, 
And treasures in its fading bell 

The spark of morning dew. 

The stream bounds lightly from the spring 

To cool and shadowy caves, 
And the bird dips his weary wing 

Beneath its sparkling waves. 

Or when in thunder from the sky 

The sounding shower descends, 
In every gale that passes by 

The loaded cornfield bends. 

Now all the plants in bright array 

Their little leaves unfold, 
And fruit-trees bear in proud display 

Their weight of living gold. 

Praise to the God whose liberal power 

These summer beauties spread ! 
And praise him in the darkest hour, 

When Nature's self is dead. 

AUTUMN. 

/ T^HE dying year ! the dying year ! 
The heaven is clear and mild ; 
And withering all the fields appear 
Where once the verdure smiled. 

The summer ends its short career, 

The zephyr breathes farewell ; 
And now, upon the closing year, 

The yellow glories dwell. 

The radiant clouds float slow above 

The lake's transparent breast ; 
In splendid foliage all the grove 

Is fancifully drest. 



144 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

On many a tree the autumn throws 
Its brilliant robes of red ; 

As sickness lights the cheeks of those 
It hastens to the dead. 

That tinge is flattering and bright, 
But tells of death like this ; 

And they that see its gathering light 
Their lingering hopes dismiss. 

Oh ! thus serene and free from fear 
Shall be our last repose ; 

Thus, like the Sabbath of the year, 
Our latest evening close. 



WINTER. 

HPHE midnight winds are sounding loud, 

The storm is gathering fast ; 
It floats upon the hurrying cloud, 
And rides the rising blast. 

The slumberer starts from troubled sleep 

To hear the wintry gales ; 
The seaman on the threatening deep 

Collects his tattered sails. 

And now it sweeps o'er earth and main 
With fierce and boundless power ; 

And snow-clouds, following in its train, 
Send down their icy shower. 

Oh ! what a wreck of all below 

The morning sun shall see ! 
The gloomy winding-sheet of snow 

Is hung on every tree. 

How rapidly have passed the hours 
Since spring was shining bright, 

And all its paradise of flowers 
Were opening to the light ! 



WILLIAM B. O. PEA BODY. 1 45 

But sadder changes than of years 

Our mournful thoughts engage : 
We think upon the hour of tears, 

When youth gives place to age. 

THE THUNDER STORM. 

"DLACK the heaven is overcast, 
Breathless is the sultry blast ; 
Nature now its silence keeping, 
Still, as if the world were sleeping ; 
Then the red and fiery flash 
Heralds forth the angry crash 
Of the echoes long and loud 
Rolling from the thunder-cloud. 

Then the storm pours forth its power, 
Then comes down the rattling shower, 
Till the war of winds is ended, 
And the rainbow's arch is bended ; 
Then the cool airs sweetly breathe 
Fragrance on the world beneath ; 
And the sun, with farewell ray, 
Smiles upon the closing day. 

Thus the storm of trouble rolls 
On the Christians' darkened souls : 
All their brightest hopes are faded, 
All their souls awhile are shaded, 
Till the light of heaven imparts 
Comfort to their sorrowing hearts, 
Shining till their last release 
Bears them to the vale of peace. 

SUNRISE. 

Q"EE the streaks of daylight swim 

On the heaving ocean-brim ! 
Now the waves begin to flow 
With a warmer, ruddier glow. 



146 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Now the gathering lustre shines 
On the loftiest mountain pines, 
And the far-off village spires 
Redden in the kindling fires. 

There ! he bursts upon the sight, 

Wrapped in flames, intensely bright ! 

Milder now the cool wind blows ; 

All is waking from repose. 

Now the laborer's steps once more 

Issue from the opening door,; 

And the busy echo sounds 

From the woods and rising grounds. 

God hath made the sun to shine, — 

Image of his love divine : 

Thus his rays of mercy fall 

Liberally alike on all ; 

Thus he lights our happy way 

To the labor of the day, 

And, when all our cares are past, 

Leads us up to heaven at last. 



THE AUTUMN EVENING. 

"T3EH0LD the western evening light t 

It melts in deepening gloom ; 
So calmly Christians sink away, 
Descending to the tomb. 

The winds breathe low ; the withering leaf 
Scarce whispers from the tree : 

So gently flows the parting breath, 
When good men cease to be. 

How beautiful on all the hills 

The crimson light is shed ! 
'Tis like the peace the Christian gives 

To mourners round his bed. 



WILLIAM B. O. PEA BODY. 147 

How mildly on the wandering cloud 

The sunset beam is cast ! 
'Tis like the memory left behind, 

When loved ones breathe their last. 

And now above the dews of night 

The yellow star appears ! 
So faith springs in the hearts of those 

Whose eyes are bathed in tears. 

But soon the morning's happier light 

Its glories shall restore ; 
And eyelids that are sealed in death 

Shall wake to close no more. 



THE RISING MOON. 

'T^HE moon is up : how calm and slow 

She wheels above the hill ! 
The weary winds forget to blow. 
And all the world lies still. 

The way-worn travellers with delight 

Her rising brightness see, 
Revealing all the paths and plains, 

And gilding every tree. 

It glistens where the hurrying stream 

Its little rippling heaves ; 
It falls upon the forest shade, 

And sparkles on the leaves. 

So once on Judah's evening hills 
The heavenly lustre spread • 

The gospel sounded from the blaze, 
And shepherds gazed with dread. 



48 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

And still that light upon the world 
Its guiding splendor throws ; 

Bright in the opening hours of life, 
And brighter at the close. 

The waning moon in time shall fail 
To walk the midnight skies ; 

But God hath kindled this bright light 
With fire that never dies. 



PRAYER BEFORE RISING. 

IV/JY God ! by thy directing power 

The rising light returns ; 
And high within his morning tower 
The sun serenely burns. 

Thou faithful Guardian of my days ! 

I owe my heart to thee ; 
To thee my earliest prayers I raise, 

And fervent they shall be. 

Thou hast preserved my sleeping breath 

Secure from harm and pain, 
While many an eye was closed in death, 

And shall not wake again. 

Thy spirit calmed my anxious breast, 

Forbidding tears to flow, 
And wrapt me in that peaceful rest 

The guilty never know. 

Oh ! thus protect me till the last 

Long hour of rest is nigh ; 
And thus, when death's long sleep is past, 

Awake my soul on high. 



WILLIAM B. O. PEABODY. 149 



PRAYER BEFORE SLEEPING. 

T^ATHER ! I thank thee for thy care 

Of all below the skies ; 
And I would raise a grateful prayer 
Before I close my eyes. 

Thy hand hath led me every hour, 
Till this day's cares were past ; 

And may the same unaltering power 
Be with me to the last. 

Sleep, like the slumber of the dead, 

Steals o'er my heavy eye ; 
And may I ne'er lie down in bed 

Unless prepared to die ! 

Let no dark vision break my rest, 
Let sad remembrance cease ; 

Let sorrow leave my weary breast, 
And all my thoughts be peace. 

I know thy never-sleeping eye 
Can look creation through ■ 

Nor all the darkness of the sky 
Can hide me from thy view. 

Let me but feel that love divine 

Is never asked in vain, 
Then may the lasting sleep be mine 

That never wakes asain. 



The following hymn is taken from Griswold's " Poets and Poetry of 
America : " — 

HYMN OF NATURE. 

/^JOD of the earth's extended plains ! 

The dark, green fields contented lie ; 
The mountains rise like holy towers, 

Where man might commune with the sky ; 



ISO SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH, 

The tall cliff challenges the storm 

That towers upon the vale below, 
Where shaded fountains send their streams 
• With joyous music in their flow. 

God of the dark and heavy deep ! 

The waves lie sleeping on the sands, 
Till the fierce trumpet of the storm 

Hath summoned up their thundering bands. 
Then the white sails are dashed like foam, 

Or hurry, trembling, o'er the seas, 
Till, calmed by thee, the sinking gale 

Serenely breathes, Depart in peace. 

God of the forest's solemn shade ! 

The grandeur of the lonely tree, 
That wrestles singly with the gale, 

Lifts up admiring eyes to thee ; 
But more majestic far they stand, 

When side by side their ranks they form, 
To wave on high their plumes of green, 

And fight their battles with the storm. 

God of the light and viewless air ! 

How gloriously above us springs 
The tented dome of heavenly blue, 

Suspended on the rainbow's rings ! 
Each brilliant star, that sparkles through, 

Each gilded cloud, that wanders free 
In evening's purple radiance, gives 

The beauty of its praise to thee. 

God of the rolling orbs above ! 

Thy name is written clearly bright 
In the warm day's unvarying blaze, 

Or evening's golden shower of light ; 
For every fire that fronts the sun, 

And every spark that walks alone 
Around the utmost verge of heaven. 

Were kindled at thy burning throne. 



WILLIAM B. O. PEABODY. 151 

God of the world ! the hour must come, 

And nature's self to dust return ; 
Her crumbling altars must decay ; 

Her incense-fires shall cease to burn : 
But still her grand and lovely scenes 

Have made man's warmest praises flow ; 
For hearts grow holier as they trace 

The beauty of the world below. 



The last hymn which we give from Dr. Peabody appears in many of 
the Collections : — 



WHO IS THY NEIGHBOR? 

Tl/'HO is thy neighbor? He whom thou 

Hast power to aid and bless ; 
Whose aching heart or burning brow 
Thy soothing hand may press. 

Thy neighbor ? 'Tis the fainting poor, 

Whose eye with want is dim \ 
Oh, enter thou his humble door, 

With aid and peace for him. 

Thy neighbor ? He who drinks the cup 
When sorrow drowns the brain : 

With words of high, sustaining hope, 
Go thou and comfort him. 

Thy neighbor ?. 'Tis the weary slave, 

Fettered in mind and limb ; 
He hath no hope this side the grave ; 

Go thou and ransom him. 

Thy neighbor ? Pass no mourner by ; 

Perhaps thou canst redeem 
A breaking heart from misery ; 

Go share thy lot with him. 



152 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

OLIVER W. B. PEABODY. 

(1799-1847.) 

Rev. Oliver William Bourne Peabody was born in Exeter, N.H., 
July 9, 1799, an d was a twin-brother of Rev. W. B. O. Peabody, whose 
story and hymns we have given above, and to whom, in respect of looks, 
voice, manner, and quality of mind and character, he had a most remark- 
able similarity. Having graduated at Harvard College in 1817, he studied 
law, and then practised his profession at Exeter for some years, during 
which time he also edited the "Rockingham Gazette and Exeter News- 
Letter." In 1822 he removed to Boston, where, with Alexander H. Everett, 
his brother-in-law, he engaged in editing the "North American Review," 
and where he assisted in conducting the " Boston Daily Advertiser." In 
1842 he was appointed Professor of English Literature in Jefferson Col- 
lege, Louisiana, having gone thither for the recovery of his health, which 
had become much impaired. Returning once more to Massachusetts, in 
fulfilment of his long-cherished desire to enter the ministry, he was 
licensed to preach by the Boston Association in 1845, an( ^ soon became 
the minister of the Unitarian Church in Burlington, Vt., where he died, 
July 5, 1847. 

The following linos, which are found in various compilations, are 
copied from Bulfinch's " Harp and Cross : " — 

LINES. 

(^)H, who that has gazed, in the stillness of even, 
^^^ On the fast-fading hues of the West, 
Has not seen afar, in the bosom of heaven, 

Some bright little mansion of rest, 
And mourned that the path to a region so fair 

Should be shrouded with sadness and fears, — 
That the night-winds of sorrow, misfortune, and care 
Should sweep from the deep-rolling waves of despair, 

To darken this cold world of tears ? 

And who that has gazed has not longed for the hour 

When misfortune for ever shall cease ; 
And Hope, like the rainbow, unfold through the shower 

Her bright-written promise of peace ? 
And oh ! if that rainbow of promise may shine 

On the last scene of life's wintry gloom, 
May its light in the moment of parting be mine ; 
I ask but one ray from a source so divine, 

To brighten the vale of the tomb. 



FRANCIS BROWN, 153 

FRANCIS BROWN. 

(1802.) 

Francis Brown was born in Lexington, Mass., Aug. 29, 1802, and 
was the son of James and Pamela (Munroe) Brown. His paternal grand- 
father was one of the wounded " Minute Men " in the Battle of Lexing- 
ton, and his grandfather on the maternal side was an officer in the Army 
of the Revolution, and was killed in the battle at Monmouth. Having 
received his early education at the schools of his native town, he re- 
moved, in 1822, to Boston, where at length he became General State 
Inspector, afterward engaged in business, and, still later, devoted him- 
self more exclusively to the management and care of the property and 
interests of the widow and orphan. Like his friend Lewis G. Pray, Esq., 
he served his fellow-citizens at various times, and in some cases for 
many successive terms, as a member of the Common Council, of the 
Board of Education, and of the State Legislature. But especially was 
he associated with Mr. Pray in Sunday school work. Like him, he was 
an agent of the Sunday School Society. For thirty years they were to- 
gether teachers or superintendents of the Sunday school of the Twelfth 
Congregational Society in Boston, and for the greater part of that time 
were prominent officers of the church. In connection with his much- 
loved labors for the young, Mr. Brown prepared and published, under 
the title of "Pathway of the Saviour," a series of lessons on the history 
and journeyings of Christ. At the request of his associates, he wrote, 
and afterward printed, an " Anniversary Poem," and also, from time to 
time, hymns for special occasions, some of which have been adopted for 
wider use. He contributed several to Mr. Pray's Sunday School Hymn- 
Book, of 1844, one of which, " Rural Celebration," we give below. Other 
hymn and service books may have since been published better suited to 
the demands of a later period ; but a large measure of gratitude and 
honor is due to those who gave the first impulse to this kind of service 
long years ago, and who, amid the daily toils of business life, breathed 
forth not a few of the first acceptable songs that were written amongst 
us for the children in our churches. 

Mr. Brown married, in 1833, C. Matilda Kuhn, daughter of the late 
John Kuhn, Esq., of Boston. One of their two children survives, 
Francis Henry Brown, M.D., a practising physician in that city. Of the 
father, a friend writes to us : " Mr. B. is now a resident at the south 
part of the city, where, in the bosom of a devoted family, he enjoys the 
serenity and satisfactions of a well-spent life." 



154 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



RURAL CELEBRATION. 

f)UR Father, Nature's God ! 

At whose commanding nod 

These hills uprose : 
Each breeze of fragrant air, 
These buds and flowers so rare, 

Thy love disclose. 

We come to taste that love, 
Which flows from thee above, 

On all around ; 
Our spirits full of glee, 
Panting for liberty, 
Seeking, in scenes so free, 
The joy we've found. 

Aid us, Great God, to be 
True to ourselves and thee, 

Where'er we go • 
And on whatever page 
We read from youth to age, 
Let us with zeal engage, 

Thy will to know. 

And when the fields of heaven 
Are to the faithful given, 

In joy to roam, — 
Oh, then, the blissful throng 
May we be found among, 
Raising the grateful song 

Of praise — at home ! 

HYMN. 

For the ordination of Rev. Fiske Barrett as pastor of the First Church at Lexington, 
Sept. s, 1849. 

TDARENT of souls ! all tribes depend 

On thee, their Father and their Friend : 
Thy love has here for ages run, 
With ample flow, from sire to son. 



LOUISA JANE HALL. 155 

When trials came, the scene around 
Was made to Freedom sacred ground ; 
Let Freedom still her sway maintain, 
And o'er the mind and heart here reign. 

Thy servant comes, Parent of Good ! 
To stand where holy men have stood ; 
Grant him, with theirs, thy Spirit pure, — 
Then shall his words and works endure. 

Here may he teach as Christ once taught, 
And utter none but Christ-like thought \ 
Long may his life continual prove 
A fount of peace, and truth, and love. 

To old and young, to sad and gay, 
Oh, let him be the joy and stay ; 
Until through virtue's path are given 
The view, the hope, the bliss of heaven. 



LOUISA JANE HALL. 

(1802.) 

Mrs. Louisa Jane Hall, daughter of John Park, a physician, was 
born in Newburyport, Mass., Feb. 2, 1802. When she was about 
two years of age, her father abandoned his profession, and removed to 
Boston, where he edited the " Repertory," a leading Federal journal. 
"When she was in her tenth year, he opened a school for young ladies, 
partly that he might himself have a better opportunity of directing her 
education. This school continued for a long time, and the daughter 
remained in it until she was seventeen, diligently improving the advan- 
tages she enjoyed. At the age of twenty, she began to publish poems 
anonymously in the " Literary Gazette," and other periodicals. The first 
half of "Miriam," a dramatic poem, was written in 1825. Encouraged 
by some friends who heard her read it at a small literary party, she 
finished it during the following year, and published it in 1827, when it 
was received by the public with much favor. Griswold says of this pro- 
duction, in his "Female Poets of America : " "The subject is one of the 
finest in the annals of the human race, but one which has never been 



156 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

treated with a more just appreciation of its nature and capacities. It is 
the first great conflict of the Master's Kingdom, after its full establish- 
ment, with the kingdoms of this world. It is Christianity struggling 
with the first persecution of power, philosophy, and the interests of 
society." 

In 1 83 1 Dr. Park moved to Worcester, where for four or five years 
the daughter's eyesight was much impaired, and the father was accus- 
tomed to read to her, and thus prepare her to write an historical tale ; 
in prose, "Joanna of Naples," published in 1838, and also a biographi- 
cal sketch of Elizabeth Carter, the English authoress. She was mar- 
ried, Oct. 1, 1840, to Rev. Edward B. Hall, of Providence, R.I., long 
the esteemed and beloved minister of the First Unitarian Church of 
that city. Her husband died in 1866, and the wife, having continued her 
residence among his people until 1872, decided, on the day when she 
was seventy years of age, to remove to Boston to live among the friends 
of her earlier years, hard as it was to leave the warm hearts and sacred 
associations that bound her to the beautiful city of her adoption. 

During a large part of her life, she has contributed numerous writings 
in prose and poetry, chiefly of a religious character, to the papers and 
magazines. Among these are many very excellent hymns, smne of 
which may be seen in various church collections, or other compilations. 
Only a very few of these, however, are included in a volume, which, 
under the title of "Verse and Prose," she gave to the press in 1850. 

The two pieces which immediately follow have been published 
before : — 



WAKING DREAMS. 

/^F idle hopes and fancies wild, 
^^^ O Father, dispossess thy child ; 
Teach me that wasted thought is sin, 
Teach me to rule this world within. 

While waking dreams the mind control, 
There is no growth in this poor soul ; 
And visions hold me back from deeds, 
And earth is dear, and heaven recedes. 

Oh, with one flash of heavenly light 
Rouse me, although with pain and fright ; 
Show me the sin of wasted powers, 
Scourge me from useless, dreaming hours. 



LOUfSA JANE HALL. 157 



GROW NOT OLD. 



TVTEVER, my heart, wilt thou grow old ! 

My hair is white, my blood runs cold, 
And one by one my powers depart, 
But youth sits smiling in my heart. 

Downhill the path of age ! oh, no ; 
Up, up with patient steps I go ; 
I watch the skies fast brightening there, 
I breathe a sweeter, purer air. 

Beside my road small tasks spring up, 
Though but to hand the cooling cup, 
Speak the true word of hearty cheer, 
Tell the lone sou] that God is near. 

Beat on, my heart ; and grow not old ! 
And when thy pulses all are told, 
Let me, though working, loving still, 
Kneel as I meet my Father's will. 



The following pieces have not before been published : — 



THE LORD'S PRAYER. 

V\7HEN Jesus trod by thy blue sea, 

How blest wert thou, O Galilee ! 
While there he walked his gracious way, 
And taught us how to live, and pray. 

In sweet and solemn tones his prayer 
Still lingers on the waving air ; 
Where suns may rise, or suns may set, 
All wants in that one prayer are met. 



158 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

From lips of childish innocence, 

From weary age with failing sense, 

Still mounts to Heaven that wondrous prayer, 

To find a loving " Father " there. 

The listening stars more brightly shine, 
The morning glows with love divine, 
When human hearts, in pain or ease, 
Use those dear words on bended knees. 



TRUE PRAYER. 

nVTO words of labored prayer I know, 

I cannot seek my Father so ; 
It gushes up in sudden hours, 
As sing the birds, as bloom the flowers, 
Unconscious all of what they do, 
To happy natures only true. 

And is it prayer ? or is it praise ? 

I only know, in loving ways 

When joy and sorrow touch the springs, 

To thee my spirit inly sings, 

And thanks thee for each granted grace, 

And humbly asks to see thy face. 

Away from forms I needs must turn ; 
No prayer have I, that I must learn ; 
No duty prayer achieved at length, 
No prayer except for needed strength ; 
I ask but help to love thee more, 
And thy dear Will in peace adore. 



SERVICE IN THE HEREAFTER. 

T WOULD my work were better done ; 

I would it were but just begun ; 
For, listening where I waiting stand, 
Comes music from the Better Land. 



WILLIAM HENRY FURNESS. 1 59 

Oh, busy hand, and heart, and brain, 
Why have ye toiled so long in vain ? 
I feel that unknown world so near ! 
And yet my spirit knows no fear. 

For longer life I will not pray, 

I will not ask another day ; 

For Thou, dear Father, even yet, 

New chance may give, new tasks may set. 

Beyond the grave, to thee more true, 
Oh, give me still thy work to do ; 
The power to serve Thou'lt surely spare ; 
Shall not thy service wait me there ? 

WILLIAM HENRY FURNESS. 

(1802.) 

Rev. William H. Furness, D.D., was born in Boston, April 20, 1802. 
Having received his early education at the Boston Latin School, he 
entered Harvard College, graduating in 1820. He graduated at the 
Theological School, at Cambridge, in 1823, and was ordained pastor of 
the First Congregational Unitarian Church of Philadelphia, in January, 
1825. He is still the minister of that society, having. held the position 
uninterruptedly for half a century. During his long career of useful- 
ness, he has been a prominent and earnest advocate of Freedom and 
Peace ; has been distinguished in the higher walks of literature, and has 
devoted himself to a most faithful study of the Gospels, writing numer- 
ous magazine articles, publishing many pamphlet discourses, and giving 
to the press many volumes, upon the varied subjects and interests which 
have thus engaged his mind. His productions all witness to his com- 
manding ability, thorough scholarship, classic eloquence, and abounding 
spirit of piety and humanity. 

His theological works are : " Remarks on the Four Gospels," 1836 
(London editions, 1836 and 1851) ; "Jesus and his Biographers," 1838; 
"History of Jesus," 1850; "Thoughts on the Life and Character of 
Jesus of Nazareth," 1859 ; " The Veil Partly Lifted," 1864 ; a Transla- 
tion, with Introduction and Notes, in two volumes, of Schenkel's " Char- 
acter of Jesus Portrayed," 1866; "The Unconscious Truth of the Four 
Gospels," 186S ; "Jesus," 1S71. Some, at least, of these books, have 
passed through successive editions, and no small proportion of them are 
out of print. 



160 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Among the large number of his pamphlet treatises or discourses of a 
doctrinal or critical character, or of occasional or philanthropic interest, 
may be mentioned one on the " Right of Property in Man," 1859 ; " Put 
up thy Sword," a sermon advocating the Gospel of Peace, delivered 
before. Theodore Parker's Society in Boston, i860; "Ecclesiastical 
Organizations," 1865 ; " Remarks on Renan's Life of Jesus," 1865 ; 
"The Authority of Jesus," 1867; "Jesus and the Gospels," 1872; 
" Faith in Christ," 1873 > anc ^ " Recollections upon the Forty-eighth 
Anniversary," 1873. 

He published a volume of Prayers, entitled "Domestic Worship," 
(second edition) in 1850, and a volume of Sermons, in 1855. In the last 
part of the former are six very fine hymns of his own composition. He 
has not only written beautiful hymns of his own, but has translated 
many fine ones from the German. Many years ago he published a 
volume of Translations by himself and others, entitled "Gems of Ger- 
man Verse," a new edition of which appeared in 1859; and, in 1856, 
another of prose Translations, "Julius, and other Tales from the Ger- 
man." For three years he edited a Philadelphia annual, which bore the 
name of " The Diadem." The pages of the " Christian Examiner," the 
" Monthly Magazine," and other periodicals, have long been enriched 
by his theological, religious, and literary articles. He received the 
degree of D.D. from Harvard College in 1847. 

Dr. Furness has been habitually averse to participation in organized 
ecclesiastical or sectarian movements or action ; but he has silently, by 
his writings, exerted a wide and deep influence on the thought and life 
of the Liberal 'Church. His profound reverence for the character of 
Christ, and his constant teaching that therein is revealed the very spirit 
and essence of Christianity, present the most marked feature of his min- 
istry of the Word ; while no American preacher has more intelligently 
and lovingly studied and unfolded the internal evidence of the genuine- 
ness and substantial credibility of the gospel records, more unflinchingly 
and faithfully applied their lessons and truths to the sins and evils of 
our time, or more consistently and beautifully exemplified, in his own 
spirit and work, the virtues and graces which they enjoin and inspire, 
than has he. 

The following six hymns are the ones to which reference has been 
made, as being appended to the Prayers in his volume of " Domestic 
Worship " : — 

THE SOUL PANTING AFTER GOD. 

" As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God." 

TTERE in a world of doubt, 

A sorrowful abode, 
O, how my heart and flesh cry out 
For thee, the living God ! 



WILLIAM HENRY FURNESS. l6l 

As for the water-brooks 

The hart expiring pants, 
So for my God my spirit looks, 

Yea, for his presence faints. 

I know thy joys, O Earth, 

The sweetness of thy cup ; 
Oft have I mingled in thy mirth, 

And trusted in thy hope. 

But ah ! how woes and fears 

These hollow joys succeed ! 
That cup of mirth is mixed with tears, 

That hope is but a reed. 

What have I then below, 

Or what but thee on high ? 
Thee, thee, O Father, would I know, 

And in thee live and die ! 



MORNING. 

TN the morning I will raise 

To my God the voice of praise ; 
With his kind protection blest, 
Sweet and deep has been my rest. 

In the morning I will pray 
For his blessing on the day ; 
What this day shall be my lot, 
Light or darkness, know I not. 

Should it be with clouds o'ercast, 
Clouds of sorrow, gathering fast, 
Thou, who givest light divine, 
Shine within me, Lord, oh, shine ! 



1 62 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Show me, if I tempted be, 
How to find all strength in thee, 
And a perfect triumph win 
Over every bosom sin. 

Keep my feet from secret snares, 
Keep my eyes, O God, from tears, 
Every step thy grace attend, 
And my soul from death defend ! 

Then, when fall the shades of night, 
All within shall still be light ; ' 
Thou wilt peace around diffuse, 
Gently as the evening dews. 



EVENING. 

CLOWLY by thy hand unfurled, 

Down around the weary world 
Falls the darkness. Oh, how still 
Is the working of thy will ! 

Mighty Maker ! Here am I, 
Work in me as silently ; 
Veil the day's distracting sights, 
Show me heaven's eternal lights. 

From the darkened sky come forth 
Countless stars. A wondrous birth ! 
So may gleams of glory dart 
From this dim abyss, my heart. 

Living worlds to view be brought 
In the boundless realms of thought ; 
High and infinite desires, 
Flaming like those upper fires. 

Holy Truth, Eternal Right, 
Let them break upon my sight ; 
Let them shine, serene and still, 
And with light my being fill. 



WILLIAM HENRY F URN ESS. 1 63 

Thou, who dwellest there, I know, 
Dwellest here within me, too ; 
May the perfect love of God, 
Here, as there, be shed abroad. 

Let my soul attuned be 
To the heavenly harmony, 
Which, beyond the power of sound, 
Fills the Universe around. 



PENITENTIAL. 

|3 ICHLY, O richly, have I been 

Blest, gracious Lord, by thee ; 
And morning, noon, and night, thou hast 
Preserved me tenderly. 

Why shouldst thou thus take care of me, 

A weak and sinful man, 
Who have refused to render thee 

The little that I can ? 

The love, which thou alone canst claim, 

To idols I have given ; 
And I have bound to earth the hopes 

That know no home but heaven. 

Unworthy to be called thy son, 

I come with shame to thee ; 
Father, O more than Father thou 

Hast always been to me ! 

For ever blessed be thy name 

For all that thou hast done ! 
That thou wilt pardon me, I know 

Through Jesus Christ thy Son. 



164 SOA T GS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Help me to break the heavy chains 
The world has round me thrown, 

And know the glorious liberty 
Of an obedient son. 

That I may henceforth heed whate'er 
Thy voice within me saith, 

Fix deeply in my heart of hearts 
A principle of faith. 

Faith, that, like armor on my soul, 

Shall keep all evil out, 
More mighty than an angel host, 

Encamped round about. 



THE SOUL. 

T17HAT is this that stirs within, 
Loving goodness, hating sin, 
Always craving to be blest, 
Finding here below no rest ? 

Nought that charms the ear or eye 
Can its hunger satisfy ; 
Active, restless, it would pierce 
Through the outward universe. 

What is it? and whither ? whence ? 
This unsleeping, secret sense, 
Longing for its rest and food 
In some hidden, untried good ? 

'Tis the soul ! Mysterious name ! 
Him it seeks from whom it came ; 
It would, Mighty God, like thee, 
Holy, holy, holy be ! 



WILLIAM HENRY FURNESS. 1 65 



SHE IS NOT DEAD, BUT SLEEPETH. 

r I A HAT one so rich in promise, 

So lovely and so pure, 
Should thus be taken from us, 
O, how shall we endure ! 

She is not dead, but sleepeth : 
Why in your hearts this strife ? 

He, who hath kept, still keepeth 
The never-dying life. 

And though that form must moulder 
And mix again with earth, 

In faith ye may behold her 
In glory going forth. 

For what to us seems dying 

Is but a second birth, 
A spirit upward flying 

From the broken shell of earth. 

We are the dead, the buried, 

We, who do yet survive, 
In sin and sense interred — ■ 

The dead ! They are alive. 

Freed from this earthly prison, 
They seek another sphere : 

They are not dead, but risen ! 
And God is with them there. 



The six hymns already given are presented in the form in which they 
appeared in " Domestic Worship," without the alterations that mark 
one or more of them in subsequent Collections. The one entitled " Peni- 
tential " seems to be a recast of a hymn of eight verses, which may be 
found in the " Christian Disciple," Vol. IV. (1822), and which begins, 
"Father in heaven, to thee my heart." Four stanzas, the first two and 
the last two, have been taken from the latter, introduced into many of 
our hymn-books, and ascribed to Henry Ware, Jr. Mr. Martineau, in 
his new hymn-book, 1874, correctly refers them to Dr. Furness. They, 
are as follows : — 



1 66 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



A PRAYER FOR DIVINE AID. 

TC^ATHER in heaven, to thee my heart 

Would lift itself in prayer ; 
Drive from my soul each earthly thought, 
And be thy presence there. 

Each moment of my life renews 

The mercies of the Lord, 
Each moment is itself a gift 

To bear one on to God. 

O, help me break the galling chains 
This world has round me thrown ; 

Each passion of my heart subdue, 
Each darling sin disown ! 

And do thou kindle in my breast 

A never-dying flame 
Of holy love, of grateful trust, 

In thine almighty name ! 



THE WIDOW OF NAIN. 

This hymn originally appeared in the " Christian Disciple," September and Octo- 
ber No., 1822. In 1839 it took i ts place, with the author's name, in Mr. Pierpont's 
American edition of Emily Taylor's " Sabbath Recreations." 

r\, MINGLE with the widow's tears 
^^^ The drops for misery shed ; 
She bends beneath the weight of years, 
Her earthly hope has fled. 

Her son, her only son, is gone ! 

O, who shall wipe that eye ? 
For she must journey lonely on, 

And solitary die ! 



WILLIAM HENRY FURNESS. 1 67 

The pall upon his corse is spread, 

The bier they slowly raise ; 
It cannot rouse the slumbering dead, — 

That widowed mother's gaze. 

She follows on, without a tear, 

Her dear, her darling child ; 
But who is he that stops the bier 

With look and accent mild ? 

The Saviour is that pitying one, 

His glance her woe disarms : 
" Young man, arise ! " — a living son 

Is in his mother's arms. 



We introduce here four hymns by Dr. Furness, which also are in 
many of our Collections, and are familiar to the churches. They are 
taken from the Cheshire " Christian Hymns." 



THE WANT WITHIN. 

T FEEL within a want 

For ever burning there ; 
What I so thirst for, grant, 
O Thou who nearest prayer ! 

This is the thing I crave, 
A likeness to thy Son ; 

This would I rather have 

Than call the world my own. 

Like him, now in my youth, 

Llong, O God, to be, 
In tenderness and truth, 

In sweet humility. 

'Tis my most fervent prayer, 
Be it more fervent still, 

Be it my highest care, 
Be it my settled will. 



168 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



JESUS OUR LEADER. 

T^EEBLE, helpless, how shall T 

Learn to live and learn to die ? 
Who, O God, my guide shall be ? 
Who shall lead thy child to thee ? 

Blessed Father, gracious One, 
Thou hast sent thy holy Son ; 
He will give the light I need, 
He my trembling steps will lead. 

Through this world, uncertain, dim, 
Let me ever lean on him ; 
From his precepts wisdom draw, 
Make his life my solemn law. 

Thus, in deed, and thought, and word, 
Led by Jesus Christ the Lord, 
In my weakness, thus shall I 
Learn to live and learn to die. 

Learn to live in peace and love, 
Like the perfect ones above, — 
Learn to die without a fear, 
Feeling thee, my Father, near. 



COMMUNION HYMNS. 

f~\ FOR a prophet's fire, 
^^^ O for an angel's tongue, 
To speak the mighty love of Him 
Who on the cross was hung ! 

In vain our hearts attempt, 

In language meet, to tell 
How through a thousand sorrows burned 

That flame unquenchable. 



WILLIAM HENRY FURNESS. 1 69 

Yet would we praise that love, 

Beyond expression dear : 
Come, gather round this table, then, 

And celebrate it here. 

These symbols of his death, 

O, with what power they speak ! 
Prophetic lips and angels' lyres, 

Compared with these, are weak. 

And shall they plead in vain 

With our forgetful souls ? 
Forbid it, God, while through our veins 

The vital current rolls. 



TTERE, in the broken bread, 
Here, in the cup we take, 
His body and his blood behold, 
Who suffered for our sake. 

Yes, that our souls might live, 
Those sacred limbs were torn, 

That blood was spilt, and pangs untold 
Were by the Saviour borne. 

O Thou who didst allow 

Thy Son to suffer thus, — 
Father, what more couldst thou have done 

Than thou hast done for us ? 

We are persuaded now 

That nothing can divide 
Thy children from thy boundless love, 

Displayed in Him who died ; — 

Who died to make us sure 

Of mercy, truth, and peace, 
And from the power and pains of sin 

To bring a full release. 



170 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

We present two pieces more, furnished for this volume by Dr. Fur- 
ness, and never before printed. The first was written for the contralto 
solo in Romberg's music to Schiller's "Song of the Bell." 



THE FATHER'S PRESENCE. 

A H ! this life is full of danger, 

Ah ! how narrow is the pathway ; 
Lord, our prayer to thee ascending 
Seeks thy grace, our souls defending, 
All our way to guard and guide. 
May we evermore abide 
'Neath the shadow of thy wings, 
And, in all our wanderings, 
Father, may thy love attend us, 
Be with us for evermore. 
In temptation's hour befriend us, 
On our hearts thy Spirit pour ; 
For without thy mercy o'er us 
We no strength, O God, can boast ; 
All our joy must turn to sorrow, 
All our hope — our heaven be lost. 



"HE THAT DWELLETH IN LOVE DWELLETH 
IN GOD." 

C\ HOW far are we below Him ! 

Him no human thought can reach ; 
Never, never can we know him, 
Far beyond all sight, all speech. 

Yet the secret of his presence 
Is with those who dwell in Love ; 

They, embosomed in his essence, 
In him ever live and move. 

So in him to have our being, 

Choosing Love for our abode, 
More than knowing him, or seeing, 

Is it thus to dwell in God. 



THOMAS GRAY, JR. \*]l 

THOMAS GRAY, JR. 
(1803-1849.) 

Thomas Gray, Jr., M.D., was born at Jamaica Plain, Roxbury, 
Mass., Feb. 4, 1803, and was the youngest of the three children of Rev. 
Thomas Gray, D.D., who was for more than fifty years pastor of the 
First Congregational (Unitarian) Church at that place. The wife of the 
latter, and mother of the three children referred to, was Deborah, daughter 
of a distinguished Baptist clergyman in Boston, Rev. Samuel Stillman, 
D.D. The subject of this notice graduated at Harvard College in 1823, 
and soon afterwards went abroad, and travelled in England and on the 
continent. On his return he published an historical romance which he 
wrote, and entitled "The Vestal : a Tale of Pompeii." This interesting 
work was favorably received by the public, and was the first to acquaint 
American readers, to any considerable extent, with the buried cities of 
Pompeii and Herculaneum. In 1827 Mr. Gray received the degree of 
M.D. from his Alma Mater, and commenced the practice of medicine in 
Boston. He was married at Brunswick, Me., Sept. 9, 1834, to Miss Mary 
Turell Fales, daughter of the late William Augustus Fales, Esq. His 
wife's mother was his own cousin, and was the sister of the late Rev. 
Frederick T. Gray. Dr. Gray subsequently exchanged the practice of 
medicine for that of dentistry, which he followed to the end of his life. 
He died in Boston, March 6, 1849. 

He early made an open profession of his Christian faith, and was 
a pure, devoted, consistent member of the Church. He was greatly 
interested in Sunday schools, was for some time a teacher, and was 
one of the earliest to write hymns for children, while he composed others 
for ordination and installation services, and for various occasions beside. 
Some of them appeared in Mr. Pray's Sunday School Collections, and 
several of them have passed into later and larger compilations for the 
church. All of them witness to his fine natural talent for this kind of ser- 
vice. He was quite as well at home, however, in other forms of poetic 
composition, and wrote a fine ode for the Second Centennial Anniversary 
of the settlement of Roxbury, Oct. 8, 1830. He had much literary taste, 
and wrote frequently for the magazines and periodicals, while he was 
also fond of music, and at one time was the organist in his father's 
church. 

The following hymn was the opening one in Mr. Pray's Sunday-School 
Hymn-Book of 1833, which we have had previous occasion to remark 
was our first popular Collection of the kind adapted to music. It is also 
the opening one in the later edition. 



172 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



MORNING HYMN. 

/^UR Father, here again we raise 

To thee our morning hymn of praise, 
For all the joys thy smiles afford, 
This sacred day, thy holy word. 

We thank thee, Father, that to thee 
Again we bend the lowly knee ; 
That here in peace and prayer we stand, 
Upheld by an Almighty hand. 

Whate'er we do, where'er we be, 
Keep us from sin and error free ; 
Thy Sabbaths may we so improve, 
As best to win our Father's love. 

So shall we then, when life shall end, 
A nobler, holier Sabbath spend, 
Where thy good children all shall be 
Joined in one family with thee. 



SUNDAY-SCHOOL ANNIVERSARY HYMN. 

From the Sunday-School Hymn-Book, 1833. It was written for the Jubilee of the Px 
ton Sunday-School Society, at the Federal Street Church, Sept. 14, 183 1. 

TT7HILE round thy throne, O God, we bend, 

Let our united praises rise ; 
And from a thousand tongues ascend 
The heart's accepted sacrifice. 

Let living light from thy blest word 

Guide those who seek and teach thy way ; 

And may each opening flower, O Lord, 
Drink life from that eternal ray. 



THOMAS GRAY, JR. 1 73 

Bless those who first this vineyard dressed : 
They reaped in joy, but sowed in doubt ; 

They smote the rock, and from its breast 
Leaped life's eternal waters out. 

They sowed in doubt, for dimly woke 

The light toward which their footsteps trod ; 

They reaped in joy, for glory broke, 
Unclouded, from the throne of God. 

On us and ours, oh, let its ray 

Shine brightly as with power divine, 
That thus, while ages roll away, 

Our children's children may be thine. 



PRAYER FOR A BLESSING. 

This hymn, like the first, is in both editions of the Sunday-School Hymn-Book. The 
first three verses are in many Church Collections. Mr. Martineau has given them a place 
in both of his compilations. 

OUPPLIANT, lo ! thy childen bend, 
w Father, for thy blessing now ; 
Thou canst teach us., guide, defend ; 
We are weak, almighty thou. 

With the peace thy word imparts 
Be the taught and teachers blest ; 

In our lives, and in our hearts, 
Father, be thy laws impressed. 

Shed abroad in every mind 

Light and pardon from above, 
Charity for all our kind, 

Trusting faith, and holy love. 

Here, in joy's triumphant day, 

Still may grateful hearts arise, 
Bright with rapture's kindling ray, 

Purely, fondly to the skies. 



174 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Here in sorrow's chastening hour 

May thy word its light diffuse ; 

Freshening as the vernal shower, 

Peaceful as the silent dews. 

» 

Grant us spirits lowly, pure, 

Errors pardoned, sins forgiven ; 

Humble trust, obedience sure, 
Love to man and faith in heaven. 



AN OPENING HYMN FOR THE SUNDAY SCHOOL. 

From the Sunday-School Hymn-Book, 1844. 

"\T7E come in childhood's innocence, 

We come as children free ; 
We offer up, O God, our hearts 
In trusting love to thee. 

Well may we bend in solemn joy, 

At thy bright courts above ; 
Well may the grateful child rejoice 

In such a Father's love. 

In joy we wake, in peace we sleep, 

Safe from all midnight harms ; 
Not folded in an angel's wings, 

But in a Father's arms. 

We come not as the mighty come ; 

Not as the proud we bow ; 
But as the pure in heart should bend, 

Seek we thine altar now. 

" Forbid them not," the Saviour said : 

In speechless rapture dumb, 
We hear the call, we seek thy face ; 

Father, we come, we come ! 



THOMAS GRAY, JR. 1 75 



ORDINATION HYMN. 

Written for the ordination of Mr. George Whitney as pastor of the Second Church and 
society in Roxbury, June 15, 1831. 

JEHOVAH ! at thine awful throne, 

Earth and earth's suppliants lowly bow ; 
• Where breaks the light, thy power is known, — 
Where evening lingers, there art thou. 

We bow to thee, in humble prayer, 

That now thy servant thou would'st bless ; 

And long may this, thy people, share 
His love, his care, his faithfulness. 

Long may this vine, Almighty One ! 

The Gospel's healing balm diffuse ; 
Be nurtured by the morning sun, 

And watered with the evening dews. 

Here may thy church find rich increase ; 

Firm as thy throne her faith endure ; 
Be peaceful, as thy word is peace, 

And pure as thou, O God, art pure. 
%. 
Here may the wandering child of sense 

Return to thee and heaven again, 
And erring, weeping Penitence 

Seek not a Father's face in vain. 

Here may earth's restless tumults cease ; 

Be Sorrow patient to thy will ; 
Say to the angry spirit, " Peace," — 

To Passion's stormy wave, " Be still." 

Jehovah ! at thine awful throne, 

Earth and earth's mighty suppliants bow ; 

Where morning kindles, thou art known, — 
Where evening slumbers, there art thou. 



176 SOA r GS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

A well-deserved tribute to the character and memory of Dr. Gray 
appeared soon after his decease in the " Christian Register," and was 
written by Rev. Frederick T. Gray, who, in reference to his hymns, 
said that a "few of them, breathing the true spirit of lyric poetry, have 
passed into some of our best Collections," and added : " One of them, 
1 Good-Night,' so felicitously is it expressed, will long be remembered by 
the children of many Sunday schools, over whom a shade of sadness 
will come when they shall hear of the death of him who wrote, ' Pure as 
the dew ascends.' " 



GOOD-NIGHT. 

A closing hymn, written for a Juvenile Concert. 

/^OOD-NIGHT! good-night! our song is said : 

Good-night ! the lyre is sleeping : 
May spirits bright around your bed 

A radiant watch be keeping. 
And may you wake, with bosoms light, 

Unclouded by a sorrow, 
From dreams of all you love, to-night, 
To pleasant hours to-morrow : 
May every dream, 
In the moon-beam, 
From hope her rainbow borrow. 
Good-night ! to all, a kind good-night. 

Good-night ! good-night ! we humbly pray, 

To Heaven our heart addressing, 
Our every thought and act to-day 

May meet his holy blessing. 
Pure as the dew unseen ascends 

In morning's sunny hour, 
Pure as the spotless lily bends 

To heaven her vestal flower, 
So purely there, 
Oh, let our prayer 
Rise to the same Good Power ! 
Good-night ! good-night ! to all, a kind good-night. 



WILLIAM NEWELL. \yj 

WILLIAM NEWELL. 

(1804.) 

Rev. William Newell, D.D., was born in Littleton, Mass., Feb. 25, 
1804. When he was at a very early age, his parents removed to Boston, 
where the son received his first school instruction. Having entered the 
Latin School of that city, he was the first to carry off the prize for a 
Latin poem awarded by that institution. He graduated with high honor, 
reading on the occasion a poem on " Youth," which evinced his unmis- 
takable genius for this kind of literary composition. He graduated at 
Harvard College in 1824, and at the Cambridge Divinity School in 1829, 
maintaining here, as in earlier relations, his superior rank as a student. 
He was ordained pastor of the First Church in Cambridge, May 19, 1830, 
and was its devoted and faithful minister for nearly thirty-eight years, 
resigning his charge and ceasing from active parochial labors March 31, 
1868. At the close of this long term of service, his people, among whom 
he still lives and with whom he continues to worship, presented him with 
a munificent gift in token of their grateful appreciation of his worth and 
usefulness. 

Dr. Newell has had a high reputation for scholarly attainments, and 
for the purity and finish of his style as a writer. His published produc- 
tions consist chiefly of religious discourses, biographical and historical 
addresses, and literary articles, printed in pamphlet form or in magazines. 
Of his occasional or anniversary discourses, two were delivered on leaving 
the old church in Cambridge, Dec. 1, 1833, and on entering the new, Dec. 
12, 1833; others on "Our National Legislature," preached on Fast Day, 
April 7, 1842 ; on the Cambridge Church Gathering in 1636, February, 
1846; on "The Year's Remembrances," Dec. 31, 1848; and on the com- 
pletion of the twenty-fifth year of the author's settlement, May 27, 1855. 
Of his funeral or commemorative sermons are those which he gave 
on Judge Story, 1845 5 on Andrews Norton, entitled " The Christian 
Scholar," 1853 ; on "The Changes of Life," delivered after the death of 
Mrs. Professor Webster, 1853 ; on Jared Sparks, 1866; and on Professor 
Charles Beck, 1866. Two others, one on Rev. William Ware and one 
on William Wells, were published in the " Christian Register " of Feb. 29, 
1852, and April 29, i860. "Corrupt Gifts" was the title of a sermon 
which he preached on Jan. 22, 1854, the anniversary of Lord Bacon's 
birthday. He gave to the " Christian Examiner," May, 1848, an article on 
the Early Fathers of New England, with a memoir of Thomas Shepard ; 
and to the same periodical, November, 1853, a memoir of Andrews Norton. 
A memoir of Rev. Convers Francis, D.D., was published in the "Pro- 
ceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society " for 1865. Dr. Newell 
is a member of the Massachusetts Historical Society, and received the 
degree of D.D. from Harvard College in 1853. 



178 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

He has from time to time written for his friends, or contributed to the 
papers and magazines, or composed for public occasions, hymns and 
poems of rare merit, distinguished alike for their beauty and power of 
thought, their refined Christian spirit and sentiment, and their chaste 
and graceful expression. As in the case of similar productions of other 
gifted bards whose names appear in this volume, we take peculiar 
pleasure in giving here to some of Dr. Newell's verses their first collected 
form. 



CONSECRATION OF CAMBRIDGE CEMETERY. 

Sung at the consecration, Nov. 1, 1854. 

(^HANGING, fading, falling, flying 

From the homes that gave them birth, 
Autumn leaves in beauty dying 
Seek the mother-breast of earth. 

Soon shall all the songless wood 

Shiver in the deepening snow, 
Mourning in its solitude, 

Like some Rachel in her woe. 

Slowly sinks yon evening sun, 

Softly wanes the cheerful light, 
And, the twelve hours' labor done, 

Onward sweeps the solemn night. 

So on many a home of gladness 
Falls, O Death, thy winter gloom ; 

Stands there still in doubt and sadness 
Many a Mary at the tomb. 

But the genial spring returning 

Will the sylvan pomp renew, 
And the new-born flame of morning 

Kindle rainbows in the dew. 

So shall God, his promise keeping 

To the world by Jesus given, 
Wake our loved ones, sweetly sleeping, 

At the breaking dawn of heaven. 



WILLIAM NEWELL. 1 79 

Light from darkness ! Life from death ! 

Dies the body, not the soul ; 
From the chrysalis beneath 

Soars the spirit to its goal. 

Father, when the mourners come 

With the slowly moving bier, 
Weeping at the open tomb 

For the lovely and the dear, — 

Breathe into the bleeding heart 

Hopes that die not with the dead ; 
And the peace of Christ impart 

When the joys of earth have fled. 



VOICES FROM THE PAST. 



These are the last lines of a beautiful poem with which Dr. Newell closed his sermon 
on the completion of the twenty-fifth year of his ministry, and which may be found in the 
pamphlet containing the printed discourse, and entitled " The Pastor's Remembrances." 



CO the two voices, to the dreamer's thought, 

Alternate sang, of Hope and Terrors wild, 
Of Grief and Gladness, Trust and gloomy Doubt 
Which was his own ? Father, forgive thy child ! 

Forgive the fears that struggle with his faith, 
Dispel the doubts that overcloud his sky, 
As the sun scatters the red mist beneath ; 
And onward let the blessed trinity, 
The sister-band of graces, one and three, 
Strong Faith, with eagle eye and angel wings, 
Sweet Hope, that heavenward soars, and soaring sings, 
And Love, that crowns the Father King of kings, 
Lead through the labyrinth of life to thee. 



180 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



THE CHRISTIAN PREACHER AND TEACHER. 

Written for the induction of Rev. Dr. Huntington as Preacher and Plummer Pro- 
fessor at Harvard College, Sept. 4, 1855. We give nine of the twelve stanzas. The whole 
hymn may be found in the pamphlet containing the published proceedings of the occasion. 

VyELCOME, servant of the Lord ! 

Bear aloft the torch of Truth ; 

And with light from God's own word 

Guide the wavering steps of youth. 

Nature, Providence, and Grace, 

Heaven-writ volumes, three and one, 

Showing each the Father's face, 
Brightest in the Saviour-Son, — 

Open all in order due ; 

Speak from all for God and Right ; 
Nobler aims than Plato knew 

With the scholar's aim unite. 

" Christo et Ecclesias ! " 

Stands our Mother's chosen seal ; * 

Faith must crown Philosophy ; 
Learning unto Christ must kneel. 

Not unsuccored wilt thou come ; 

Heaven and earth thy way prepare ; 
Up from many a loved one's home 

Flows for thee the might of prayer. 

By the mighty woe or weal, 

Wrapped within life's budding years ; 

By the sanctified appeal 

Of the parent's hopes and fears ; 

By each tender tie and name ; 

By the memory of the dead ; 
By thy Master's solemn claim ; 

By the cross on which he bled ; 

* Bearing upon it three open books, with the above motto encircling them. 



WILLIAM NEWELL. l8l 

By the all-loving Father's right 

To be known, received, obeyed ■ 
By the Holy Spirit's light, 

Beaming on the souls he made ; — 

Go in faith and work in love 

For each brother-student's soul, 
Till the shining ones above 

Meet thee at thy glorious goal. 



LIGHT ON THE CLOUD.* 

" All things work together for good to them that love God." — Rom. vili. 25. 

TTE who in mercy makes the sun to shine 

In mercy bids the storm-cloud do his will ; 
And ripens into fruit the life divine, 

By turns of wisely mingled good and ill. 

Yes, he it is, our righteous Father-God, 
Who, in the training of his children, sends 

The dark-robed angel of the chastening rod 
To be co-worker in his gracious ends. 

Smiles the Lord's messenger beneath his mask, 
Rich treasure hiding under pain and loss. 

The meaning of his mission dost thou ask ? 
God's answer read on the transfigured Cross. 

Wreathed with heaven's half-hid roses in the bud, 
Behold the crown of thorns, the accursed tree ! 

Full many a blessing, dimly understood, 
O stern Adversity, is born of thee ! 

Come in what shape thou wilt, thou canst not come, 
To the true soul, unsanctified, unblest : 

Upward still pointing to the Father's home, 
The Father's face, his service and his rest. 

Written for a parishioner who was recovering from a severe fit of sickness. 



182 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Thou mak'st us know, what else we but half know, 
Friends' love and care, their sympathy and truth ; 

And so new tendrils, soft and strong, do grow 
To the fond ties that bound us in our youth. 

Nearer to Jesus thou dost draw the soul, 
And thou revealest to its opened eye 

Life's great realities and heavenly goal, 
Shining through all its checkered mystery. 

So out of every Marah, healing springs, 

All pure and sweet, come gushing up at length ; 

And he, who made and loves us wisely, brings 
From bitter woe and weakness joy and strength. 

Pours he his bounties from a flowing urn ? 

Stints he their current ? Praise him, trust him still, 
And each new trial to a triumph turn, 

In patient doing of his holy will. 

Learn of the Crucified thy cross to bear ; 

Unto the end, as he endured, endure ; 
And with the sword of Faith and shield of Prayer, 

In the hard strife with evil, stand secure. 

Dec. i8, 1858. 

JARED SPARKS. 

A Sonnet, sent to Mrs. Sparks on receiving a photograph of her husband, 1866. 

J" LOOK upon thy features, honored friend, 

With many thronging memories, sad yet sweet, 
And then I ask myself, " Is this the end ? 

Shall we no more that noble presence meet ? " 

Will God, the Father, sporting with us, cheat 
The heart's deep promise of another home, — 
Another land where parted spirits come 

Into another union more complete ? 
Nay, in the silence of that speaking look, 

In the grave aspect lighted with a smile, 



WILLIAM NEWELL. 1 83 

I read the answer to the yearning soul 
Echoing the message of the Holy Book, 

And on " that blessed hope " * I anchor, while 
I wait God's time to see the perfect whole. 

FESTIVAL HYMN. 

Written for the Annual Unitarian Festival, held in Music Hall, Boston, May 30, 1872. 

"Ej^ROM Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire, 

From California's shore, 
Saint Louis and Chicago, 

New York and Baltimore ; 
From the old English household, 

From many a Yankee home, 
Our brothers and our sisters 

In love and joy have come. 

Once more, in genial union, 

A widely gathered host, 
Jesus, our Leader, smiling, 

We hold our Pentecost. 
Hearts, filled with praise and gladness, 

Respond to tongues of fire, 
While words of wit and wisdom 

Our feast of love inspire. 

What, though we miss the presence 

Of noble souls once given, 
We bless the Lord who gave them 

To light the way to heaven. 
We pray for strength to follow 

The path they firmly trod, 
That we, with them, may labor 

For truth, and right, and God. 

And still, 'mid differing phrases, 

May all in heart be one ; 
One with the One Great Father, 

One with the loving Son. 

* Titus ii. 13 ; Hebrews vi. 19. 



1 84 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

May peace among the nations 
Her olive sceptre hold, 

And bind in cordial friendship 
The New World and the Old. 

O God, give all thy churches 

Thine unction from above ; 
Faith, hand in hand with freedom, 

With holiness and love ; 
Till all, united, working 

For the world's life, and health, 
Build here on earth thy kingdom, 

One Christian commonwealth. 



COMMUNION HYMN.* 

" He sent away the multitudes." — Matt. xv. 39. 

nPHEY had fed on his word, and they drank in his smile, 

And fain in his presence uplifted would stay ; 
And the heart of the Saviour yearned towards them the while, 
Yet in love and in wisdom he sent them away. 

Not alone in communion with him and his word, 
Not alone in the meeting to praise and to pray, 

Would he teach them to serve and to honor the Lord, 
So in love and in wisdom he sent them away. 

To the world's daily toil, to the field and the mart, 

To their friends and their homes, to their children at play, 

That the life might bear fruit of the faith in the heart, 
In love and in wisdom he sent them away. 

Let thy presence, dear Saviour, abide with us still, 

As the law of thy Spirit we gladly obey, 
And mould heart and life to thy word and thy will, 

When we go, sent by the 3, from thy table away. 

* Written for the close of the communion service. 



WILLIAM NEWELL. 1 .8 5 

ALTIORA PETAMUS, CHRISTO DUCE. 

1 If ye be risen with Christ, seek those things which are above." — Col. iii. 1-3. 

T SAW the mountain oak with towering form 
Fall in his pride, the whirlwind's chosen prey, 
The lily of the vale outrode the storm, 

Shining the lovelier, as it passed away. 
Friend, seek not happiness in high estate, 
To Mary's heart she flies from Herod's palace-gate. 

I marked a spendthrift moth, squalid and lone, 

With shivering wings ; his summer flowers were dead : 

While the blithe bee, making their sweets her own, 
Sang in her home of honey, richly fed. 

Friend, seek not happiness in fleeting pleasure, 

In each good work of life the good God hides her 
treasure. 

Jewelled with morning dew, the new-blown rose 
Brings to the enamoured eye her transient dower ; 

The live sap still runs fresh, the sound root grows, 
When all forgotten fades the red-lipped flower. 

Friend, seek not happiness in the bloom of beauty, 

But in the soul of truth and steadfast life of duty. 

Lo ! the red meteor startles with his blaze 
The gazing, awe-struck earth, and disappears ; 

While yon true star, with soft, undazzling rays, 

Shines in our skv through circling months and vears. 

Friend, seek not happiness in worldly splendor, 

But in the light serene of home-joys, pure and tender. 

Power has its thorns ; wealth may be joyless glitter ; 

Belshazzar's feast grows dark with fear and sadness ; 
Friends die, — and beauty wanes, — and cares embitter 

The gilded cup ; grief lurks behind our gladness. 
Then seek not happiness in shows of earth, 
But learn of Christ betimes the secret of her birth. 



1 86 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Child of the soul, twin-born with Faith and Love, 
In the clear conscience, and the generous heart, 

Twin-lived with them, with them she soars above 
The earthly names which man from man do part. 

Seek thou God's kingdom ; there unsought she's found, 

High in a heavenly life, not creeping on the ground. 

Hearts set on things above, not things beneath, 
Find what they crave around them day by day ; 

Souls risen with Christ, quick with his Spirit, breathe 
The air of heaven, e'en while on earth they stay. 

Bearing the cross, the hidden crown they bring, 

And at the tomb they hear the Easter angels sing. 



A NEW-YEAR'S HYMN. 

Written by Dr. Newell for a young friend staying in his family, on her birthday, and 
contributed by him to this volume on the day when he himself was just seventy years of 
age. 

" Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.' ' — Ps. xxiii. 6. 

A LL the days of my life, be they many or few, 
The Father of Spirits will lead me unseen ; 
His goodness and mercy my steps will pursue, 
By his rod I am led, on his arm I would lean. 

All the days of my life, be they shadowed or bright, 
His love, meeting mine, will fall full on my soul ; 

His voice, if I hear it, will guide me aright, 
And his uplifting hand bear me on to the goal. 

All the days of my life, days of light or of gloom, 
I will trust the wise love of that merciful Friend, 

As I climb through the dark to my heavenly home, 
Still with me to comfort, to cheer and defend. 

Let the days of my life, be they many or few, 
Be hallowed by duty, made lovely by love ; 

And every New Year with good works flower anew, 
While Christ at the root feeds the fruitage above. 



WILLIAM NEWELL. 1 87 

Then, if many or few, if clouded or clear, 

My days on the earth will have glimpses of heaven, 

And the last day's last hour of the last happy year 
Will of all be the best by the good Father given. 



SERVE GOD AND BE CHEERFUL. 1 



" CERVE God and be cheerful." The motto 

Shall be mine, as the bishop's of old ; 
On my soul's coat-of-arms I will write it 
In letters of azure and gold. 

" Serve God and be cheerful," self-balanced, 
Whether fortune smile sweetly or frown. 

Christ stood king before Pilate. Within me 
I carry the sceptre and crown. 

" Serve God and be cheerful." Make brighter 
The brightness that falls to your lot ; 

The rare or the daily sent blessing 

Profane not with gloom and with doubt. 

" Serve God and be cheerful." Each sorrow 
Is — with your will in God's — for the best. 

O'er the cloud hangs the rainbow. To-morrow 
Will see the blue sky in the west. 

" Serve God and be cheerful." The darkness 

Only masks the surprises of dawn ; 
And the deeper and grimmer the midnight, 

The brighter and sweeter the morn. 

* The motto of an English Bishop of the 17th century. SOBRIE, JUSTE, 
PIE, — LAETE, was the kindred and comprehensive motto over the mantel-piece 
of one of his Puritan contemporaries, the witty minister of Ipswich, "our St. 
Hilar}-," as Mather calls him, or, as he calls himself in his own book, " The Sim- 
ple Cobler of Agawam." 



1 88 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

" Serve God and be cheerful." The winter 
Rolls round to the beautiful spring, 

And o'er the green grave of the snowdrift 
The nest-building robins will sing. 

" Serve God and be cheerful." Look upward ! 

God's countenance scatters the gloom ; 
And the soft summer light of his heaven 

Shines over the cross and the tomb. 

" Serve God and be cheerful." The wrinkles 
Of age we may take with a smile ; 

But the wrinkles of faithless foreboding 
Are the crow's-feet of Beelzebub's guile. 

" Serve God and be cheerful." Religion 
Looks all the more lovely in white ; 

And God is best served by his servant 
When, smiling, he serves in the light, 

And lives out the glad tidings of Jesus 
In the sunshine he came to impart, 

For the fruit of his word and his Spirit 
" Is love, joy, and' peace " in the heart. 

" Serve God and be cheerful." Live nobly, 
Do right and do good. Make the best 

Of the gifts and the work put before you, 
And to God without fear leave the rest. 



Cambridge, Jan. 



ORDINATION HYMN. 



Sung at the ordination of Mr. Francis Greenwood Pcabody as the successor of Dr 
Newell in the pastorate of the First Congregational (Unitarian) Church, in Cambridge 
March, 31, 1874. 

r\ FATHER of the living Christ, 
^^^ Fount of the living Word ! 
Pour on the shepherd and the flock 
The Spirit of the Lord. 



A. R. ST. JOHN. 189 

Amid this mingled mystery 

Of good and ill at strife, 
Help them, God, in him to find 

The Way, the Truth, the Life. 

That way together may they tread, 

That truth with joy receive, 
That life of heaven, on earth begun, 

Through cloud and sunshine live. 

Not chained to creeds, or cramped by forms, 

With eyes that hail the light, 
I11 holy freedom keep their souls, 

Loyal to truth and right. 

One may they be in faith and hope, 

"As one in works of love, 
Till all be one in Christ and thee 
In the Great Church above. 



A. R. ST. JOHN. 

(1805.) 

Mrs. A. R. St. John was born in Boston, Mass., Feb. 24, 1805. Left 
an orphan at a very early age, she passed under the care and into the 
family of her brother, the late Colonel Isaac Monroe, of Baltimore, Md. 
He was at that time living in Boston, where he had established and was 
editing the " Boston Patriot." In a few years thereafter, he removed to 
Baltimore, and there, carrying with him his professional predilections, 
established and edited the " Baltimore Patriot." This paper early became 
one of the leading political and literary journals of the day, marked by 
great ability in its editorial conduct, and by the soundness of its views 
upon the great topics which agitated the country previous to, during, and 
immediately following the War of 1S12 ; while it continued, through the 
long period of its founder's personal care, and by the talent and culture 
he was able to command, to sustain its high reputation throughout the 
Union. 

Colonel Monroe, faithful to the guardianship he had from the first as- 
sumed, did not forget to provide the best education for his sister which 



190 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

the city of his adoption afforded ; whilst his prominent editorial and 
social position brought her into frequent and close association with many 
of the best and most cultivated intellects and distinguished statesmen of 
the country, to whom his house was a familiar resort. Thus she early im- 
bibed a decided and earnest love, not only of modern, but of ancient and 
classic literature. Her pen, meanwhile, was not suffered to lie idle, 
though in general confined to local subjects of interest, or some special 
object or occasion. Hence, to the public, and beyond her own private 
or social circle, is she so little known as an author. The scant notice of 
her in Griswold's "Female Poets of America" is due to her aversion to 
any claim of literary rank. 

In 1825 she was married to Mr. I. R. St. John, — then partner in an 
eminent banking-house in New York and Augusta, Ga., to which latter 
city she immediately accompanied him. There they remained till 1836, 
when her husband was called to the New York office of his firm ; and, after 
its dissolution, they removed to Brooklyn, in 1842, where they are still liv- 
ing. The tastes and the convictions of Mrs. St. John go together in her 
devotion to the Unitarian faith, — from her childhood at once consistent 
and zealous. In the earlier and later ministry of the* lamented Rev. 
William Ware in New York, and from the very start of the Church of 
the Saviour in Brooklyn, she has laid upon its altars the offering of her 
fine and cultured mind, her ardent and sincere affection, her long life of 
active benevolence and unostentatious piety. 

Of her poetical effusions we select a few that are specially adapted to 
our present purpose. 

DEDICATION HYMN. 

Written for the consecration of the Church of the Saviour, Brooklyn, N.Y., 
April 24, 1844. 

A/TAN in his might and worldly skill 

A temple rears to thee ; 
Joy's echoing hymns its arches fill 
With thankful ecstasy. 

The " grain of mustard-seed " has sprung 

A wide and sheltering tree, 
And o'er thy gathering flock has flung 

Its arms of majesty. 

The last stone laid, the work well done. 

Away, all earth-born care ; 
Whilst the full soul yields at thy throne 

Its homage, praise, and prayer. 



A. R. ST. JOHN. 191 

These walls, great God, all-powerful, wise, 

We consecrate to thee, 
Grand Architect of earth and skies, 

And world's sublimity. 

Beneath the cross, in Jesus' name, 

Thy blessing we implore ; 
Light with thy grace our altar's flame, 

To guide us evermore. 



INSTALLATION HYMN. 

Written for the installation of Rev. F. A. Farley, D.D., as pastor of the Church of the 
Saviour, Brooklyn, N.Y., April 25, 1844. 

A LMIGHTY Power, whose word and will sustain 
Unnumbered worlds by some mysterious chain, 
Whose links of air, unseen, we know to be 
Firm as all love and truth that comes from thee ! 

God of the millions who, with one accord, 
Yield their heart's incense for thy precious word, 
Warm from the breath of inspiration given. 
Our star of faith, pointing the path to heaven ! 

God of our Saviour ! Source of light and life ! 
Each throbbing pulse with thankfulness is rife, 
As gathering round thine altar, Holy ONE, 
We pray to thee, through thy redeeming Son ! 

< 
We would, O Father ! that thy grace may shine 
Upon thy servant's works, whose soul is thine, — 
Our pastor, brother, friend, and chosen guide 
O'er life's full stream, to cheer its ebbing tide. 

May its pure beams illumine every word, 
Enrich each tone that from his lips is heard ; 
That deep within our bosoms' sacred cell, 
The new-born fervor may continuous dwell. 



192 SOA T GS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Let his pure life a mirror ever be, 
Where we, reflected, may our errors see ; 
A beacon-light to guide us through the storm, 
A cheering flame, our fainting hopes to warm. 

And when the sands of Time their grains have spent, 
And thou shalt ask "the talent" Heaven has lent, 
May he a golden increase bring to thee, 
That " welcome " to thine household he may be ! 



The following hymn was written for the consecration of a Unitarian 
chapel at Bridgeport, Conn., in 1849. The ailusion in the last stanza is 
to the death of Mr. Van Polanen, whose stanch faith had founded the 
church, and to Madame Van Polanen, who, after her husband's decease, 
erected the edifice as a memorial of his worth and services. 



THE CHAPEL AT BRIDGEPORT. 

T17E come, a pilgrim band, to kneel, 

Almighty Power, to thee ; 
Though dearer to our souls we feel 
A Father's name to be. 

As children of thy grace and love, 
Gathering around thy knee, 

With filial confidence to move 
Thy boundless sympathy ; 

We crave thy blessing on this shrine, 

Now consecrate to thee ; 
And may its light with truth divine 

Illume eternity. 

Oh, wilt thou bless the heart that gave, 
The hand that planted here 

This seed of faith, sown on the grave, 
Immortal fruit to bear. 



A. R. ST. JOHN. 193 



THE MOTHER. 

A S wandering o'er Life's weary way, 

Through tangled brake and shadowy fen, 
The sunlight plains of Fortune's day, 

And Pleasure's fairy, moonlit glen, — 
On the gulf's brink of Hope's despair 
A mother cheered her soul with prayer. 

Kneeling beside a shivered tree, 

Scathed by the storm-cloud's blighting power, 
Whose one branch green still seemed to be 

Faith's triumph-badge in life's dark hour, — 
She to her God her heart laid bare, 
And sought her dearest solace there. 

Thinking some piteous prayer to hear 
From lips where truth alone could speak, 

Where sorrow's chill and memory's tear 

Had chased their furrows down her cheek, — 

I paused : a bright, seraphic smile 

Haloed around her brow the while. 

Brief was the plaint of earthly ill, — 

None 'gainst her woes of Heaven's decree : 

" Father, submissive to thy will, 
I know that it is meet for me ; 

My lowly lot in world's estate 

Exchange I would not with the great. 

" Of titles, fortune, power bereft, — 
A dead note in the trump of Fame, — 

Still are my dearest treasures left, 

My husband's smile beams still the same ! 

My children, — can on earth there be 

A richer diadem for me ? 

" Father, my soul in reverence breathes 
Its holiest love and thanks to thee ; 

Full as the gathered harvest-sheaves, 
Bound for thy call — from earth as free ; 
13 



194 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

My spirit's strength, its hopes and fears, 
Contented tread life's vale of tears." 

Then as deep silence closed around, — 
Life's beating pulse, earth's only sound, — 

As if the myriad spirits there 

To break Faith's stillness did not dare, — 

She slowly rose and sped her way, 

Nor felt the thorns that in it lay, 

Leaving behind a jewel bright, 

That trembled in the misty light. 
I grasped this record of her prayer, 

And held a heart-mined, crystal tear! 
Angels of light, of heavenly love ! 
Are these the gems ye wear above ? 

Oh, through my startled, humbled soul, 
Such floods of penitential thought, 

Such heavenly music o'er it stole, 

Like notes from cherub-anthems caught ! 

Her joyful prayer, her low estate : — 

Read'st thou a lesson, oh, earth's great ? 

WILLIAM PARSONS LUNT. 
(1805-1857-) 

Rev. William Parsons Lunt, D.D., was the son of Henry and Mary 
Green Lunt, and was born in Newburyport, Mass., April 21, 1805. He 
received his early education in Boston, whither his parents removed 
while yet he was an infant. At the age of ten, he was placed at the 
Academy in the neighboring town of Milton, where his preparatory 
studies were pursued with marked diligence and success, and where his 
conscientious and blameless conduct gave beautiful promise of his stain- 
less and consecrated manhood. Having entered Harvard College in 1819, 
he graduated in 1823. He then taught school for a year in Plymouth, 
where he was married in 1829 to Ellen Hobart, daughter of Barnabas 
Hobart, of that town. Leaving Plymouth, he returned to Boston to 
study law, but soon found that another profession had greater attractions 



WILLIAM PARSONS LUNT. 1 95 

for him, and accordingly began his preparation for the Christian min- 
istry at the Cambridge Divinity School, in 1825. He was ordained 
June 19, 1828, as the pastor of the Second Congregational Unitarian 
Society of New York City. 

His arduous labors in the great metropolis continued until November, 
1833, when he retired from his post, and sought comparative rest for a 
time through only occasional supplies of vacant pulpits. He was in- 
stalled as associate pastor of the Unitarian Church in Quincy, Mass., 
June 7, 1835 > Rev. Peter Whitney, who had long been settled over the 
society, still retaining his official connection with it. Mr. Whitney, after 
a ministry to this church of forty-three years, died in 1843 > anc ^ ^ r - 
Luntwas thenceforth its sole pastor until his death in 1857. The latter, 
having for a long time cherished a desire to visit the Holy Land, preached 
Dec. 28, 1856, what proved to be his last sermon to his beloved people, 
and embarked for his pilgrimage to Palestine on board a vessel that bore 
him directly on, past European shores, to the distant East. Having 
arrived in Egypt, he pursued his way to Sinai ; but on the day after he 
left the Convent, and while still prosecuting his journey to Jerusalem, 
he was taken sick, and his disease became more and more alarming as 
the party moved on. All effort that could be made for his recovery 
proved unavailing ; and during the second night after his arrival at 
Akabah, the ancient Ezion-Geber, at the head of the Eastern arm of the 
Red Sea, he sank to his rest, almost in sight of the blessed "acres" 
which he had travelled so far to behold and tread. He was buried, 
March 21, 1857, in a grave excavated in the upper part of a mound out 
on the desert, a short distance from the castled village. Six years after- 
ward, a party of Americans and' foreigners were pursuing this same route 
to the Holy City, when one of them, on their approach to Akabah, re- 
calling some beautiful lines which Rev. S. G. Bui finch, D.D., had written 
on the death of Dr. Lunt for the "Christian Register," and to which he 
had given the name of this place as a title, was thus reminded that they 
were drawing near the spot where the eminent and venerated Christian 
preacher, scholar, poet, and saint 

" Turned dying eyes 
Upon Asian skies, 
And dropped on Moslem ground." 

After reaching the village and making various inquiries, they were led 
to the grave, but found no stone to tell the stranger where the body lay. 
They procured a slab from the castle, chiselled it with suitable inscrip- 
tions, set it firmly into the earth over the sacred dust, and requested the 
chiefs of the town, and Hassaneen the dragoman, to have a watchful 
care of the rude and simple monument, and to direct to it, as they should 
have opportunity, such of our countrymen as might in subsequent years 
visit this remote settlement on their way from Sinai to Jerusalem. Dr. 
Bulfinch's lines, as well as Dr. Frothingham's touching "Lament," 
written on the same occasion, may be found elsewhere in this volume. 



196 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Dr. Lunt was honored with the degree of D.D. by Harvard College 
in 1850. Numerous pamphlet sermons and biographical and historical 
discourses, as well as many articles which he contributed to the " Chris- 
tian Examiner " and other periodicals, illustrated his extensive range of 
knowledge, his depth and power of thought, his finished style and his 
chastened eloquence, and above all the strength and beauty of his Chris- 
tian faith. Among the most remarkable of his published discourses are 
two which he delivered, Sept. 29, 1839, on the Two Hundredth Anni- 
versary of the Gathering of the First Congregational Church of Quincy ; 
one at the interment of John Quincy Adams, sixth President of the 
United States, March n, 1848 ; one commemorative of Daniel Webster, 
Nov. 25, 1852 ; one before the Theological School, at Cambridge, in 1852 ; 
and the Dudleian Lecture, in 1855. In reference to the last two, Rev. 
Chandler Robbins, D.D., in preaching a sermon on the character and life 
of Dr. Lunt, said that they were among the " most profound, brilliant, and 
masterly productions that have illustrated the highest of the sciences in 
recent times," and that they "at once lifted their author to a high rank 
in the esteem of his professional brethren for metaphysical acuteness, 
erudition, and eloquence." 

This able preacher and "thoughtful scholar" also compiled, in 1841, 
an excellent hymn-book, " The Christian Psalter," and was himself a poet 
of no ordinary gifts or rank. His productions in this department of litera-. 
ture reveal the grave, meditative spirit of the author, while they show that 
he was possessed of a high degree of imaginative power and lyric fervor. 
Many of them were hymns and odes written for the Quincy Church 
Sunday School, for Installation Services, Anniversary Celebrations, and 
other like occasions. His longest poem" was one which he read before 
the Phi Beta Kappa Society in Cambridge, in 1837. A small but finely 
printed and elegantly bound volume, edited by his daughter, Mary E. 
Lunt, and published by his son, William P. Lunt, has very recently been 
issued under the title of "Gleanings," giving brief selections or extracts 
from his prose writings, and also some of his hymns and poems. From 
this little book we copy a few pieces to enrich our own pages, and to 
hint to the reader what choice things beside maybe found in Miss Lunt's 
beautiful memorial of her father. The following lines are in many 
Church Collections : — 

OUR FOREFATHERS. 

Written for the public schools of Quincy, and sung by them at their Fourth of July 
Celebration, 1837. 

T17HEN, driven by oppression's rod, 
Our fathers fled beyond the sea, 
Their care was first to honor God, 
And next to leave their children free. 



WILLIAM PARSONS LUNT. 197 

Above the forest's gloomy shade 
The altar and the school appeared ; 

On that the gifts of faith were laid, 

In this their precious hopes were reared. 

Armed with intelligence and zeal, 

Their sons shook off the tyrant's chain, 

The rights of freemen quick to feel, 
And nobly daring to maintain. 

The altar and the school still stand, 

The sacred pillars of our trust, 
And Freedom's sons shall fill the land 

When we are sleeping in the dust. 

Before thine altar, Lord, we bend, 

With grateful song and fervent prayer, 

For thou who wast our fathers' friend 
Wilt make our offspring still thy care. 



THE CHRISTMAS TREE. 

Written for the Christmas Celebration of the Sunday School of Dr. Lunt's Church at 
Quincy, Dec. 25, 1849. 

CHILDREN. 

THE Christmas Tree ! The Christmas Tree ! 

'Twas planted long ago ; 
The angels sung their hymn above, 
As we sing ours below : 

Of auld lang syne we sing, 
Of Christmas long ago ; 
The angels sung their hymn above, 
As we sing ours below. 

The Tree by holy hands was set 

In days of auld lang syne ; 
Its boughs with heavenly dews were wet, 

And hung with fruit divine. 
Of auld lang syne we sing, &c. 



193 SOA 7 GS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Thousands have met around the Tree 
In days of auld lang syne ; 

Have plucked the fruit, and thankfully 
Enjoyed the food divine. 

Of auld land syne we sing, &c. 

The Tree with gifts has loaded been 
From days of auld lang syne ; 

And still through leaves of living green 
The Saviour's presents shine. 
Of auld lang syne we sing, &c. 

TEACHERS. 

Come, children, take the gifts you see, 

And to your minds recall 
The fruit upon the heavenly Tree 
That grows and blooms for all. 
Of auld lang syne we sing, 
Of Christmas long ago ; 
The angels sung their hymn above, 
As we sing ours below. 



THE HIGHER BIRTH. 

"FAREWELL, farewell, thou fostering Earth 

The gift of life I now resign : 
The spirit waits a higher birth ; 
My useless dust I now resign. 

From thee rich stores of thought I've gained ; 

Thy various forms excite the mind, 
Amidst thy scenes of wonder trained : 

I leave them all behind. 

The beauty that is on thy brow 

Waked infant passion in my heart j 

But higher glories ravish now, 
And bid me hence depart. 



WILLIAM PARSONS LUNT. 199 

Thy tender ties, relations dear, 

First gently taught me how to love : 

The germ which Nature planted here 
Must grow and bloom above. 

The stormy blasts have firmer made 
The spreading roots of virtue's tree ; 

The soul, by cares and sorrows swayed, 
Rests in eternity. 

But chiefly in thy radiant face, 

Where lower beauties meet and shine, 

My musing spirit learned to trace 
The lineaments divine. 

My race is run, my toils are o'er, 

And safely reached the destined goal : 

And thou, fair Earth, canst do no more 
To consecrate the soul. 

I drop my chrysalis of clay : 

On new-fledged wings I take my flight ; 
Up to the brilliant Source of day 

I rise from Death's dark night. 



LATIN HYMN. — "LUX ECCE SURGIT AUREA." 

CEE ! the golden morning rises, 
Pallid shadows haste away ; 
Headlong night no more surprises, 
Leads no more the steps astray. 

Light like this break in and scatter 
Every cloud that shades the soul ! 

Nought deceptive may we utter, 
No dark thoughts within us roll. 



200 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

All day long may truth, presiding 
Over hand and eye and tongue, 

Word and look and action guiding, 
Keep us pure, and make us strong. 

When bright Morn with rosy touches 
Lifts the windows of the sky, 

Lo, a witness stands and watches 
All we do with piercing eye. 

And when Eve, with dewy fingers, 

Spreads her veil and clouds the light, 

Still that awful presence lingers, 

And that eye looks through the night. 
1842. 



The following hymns, not contained in the volume of "Gleanings," 
have been kindly furnished us by members of Dr. Lunt's family, and are 
copied from his unpublished manuscripts or from printed orders of ser- 
vices. 

As an indication of this preacher's remarkable natural gifts as a poet, 
we give here a hymn which he wrote when he was only twelve years old, 
and which shows a matureness of thought, a facility for poetic composi- 
tion, and a degree of Christian experience, which might well become a 
singer of twice the age. 



THE SENT OF THE FATHER. 

f~\ SHALL our hearts that Friend forsake 
^^^ Who gave himself that we might live ? 
No, let our drooping faith awake, 
Our grateful love may it revive. 

Low at thy feet we meekly sit, 

Blest Teacher of the Father's will ! 

To thee let every thought submit : 
Say to our passions, — Peace, be still. 



WILLIAM PARSONS LUNT. 201 

Thou who hast kindled in our way 

With Heaven's own torch a cheering light, 

To guide us to the realms of day, 

Through error's maze, and sorrow's night, — 

In joy, in woe, in life, in death, 

O may thy truth within us reign ; 
Be ours the spirit thou didst breathe, 

Be ours the victory thou didst gain. 



INSTALLATION HYMN. 



Hymn sung at the installation of Rev. George W. Briggs, in Plymouth, as colleague 
pastor with Rev. James Kendall, D.D., Jan. 3, 1838. 



TNTO the wilderness was Hagar driven, 

And sat and wept to think her child must die ; 
But now that child, to vigorous manhood risen, 
Beholds a garden blooming in his eye. 

Young watchman of the church, thy station take, 
Where the gray Fathers of our Empire stood, 

And saw the morning of our glory break 

From error's night, and through misfortune's cloud. 

The Pilgrim heart beats true and faithful here, 
Still fondly cherishing the pastor's name ; 

And here have honored hands for many a year 
Fed and renewed the altar's sacred flame. 

A blessing on this hour, O God, we crave, 

From thee whose spirit blessed thy Church of old ; 

May fervent lips, gifted with power to save, 

God's truth, man's freedom, to this flock unfold. 



202 SOJVGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



HYMN FOR A SUNDAY SCHOOL. 



Dr. Lunt was fond of writing hymns for his Sunday school. Many of his sweetest 
verses were for its various celebrations and anniversaries. We have already given one or 
two. This is another, sung at the closing of the school, Nov. 15, 1846. 



T.TARK! the gentle Shepherd's voice 

"Little children, come to me." 
" In that word our souls rejoice, 
And we give our hearts to thee." 

" Take my yoke, and of me learn. 

I will show you what is good." 
" Saviour ! yes, to thee we turn, 

Feed our minds with heavenly food." 

" None can to the Father come 
But by me the Living Way." 

" Saviour ! guide us to our home, 
And the Father's love display." 

" I was once, like you, a child, 
And a child's subjection knew." 

" Teach us, Saviour, to be mild, 
Kind, obedient, and true." 

" Cup and cross, and thorny crown 
Tell what sorrows I have known." 

" Saviour ! send thy spirit down, 
Make thy patience all our own." 

" Though in death's repose I lay, 
I've ascended to the skies." 

" Saviour ! thou hast led the way, 
Teach our spirits how to rise." 



WILLIAM PARSONS LUNT. 203 



THE CHANTING CHERUBS. 

Written for the anniversary celebration of the Sunday-school Society connected with 
the Federal Street Church, Boston. Sung May 30, 1849. 

"V/TUSIC'S the language of cherubs in glory, 

Chanting the praise of the wonderful Child ; 
Telling in melody Bethlehem's story, 

Hymning the triumphs of earth's Undefiled. 

Hark ! on our ears breaks the many-tongued chorus ; 

Minstrels celestial in vision we see : 
Winged voices scatter the Saviour's words o'er us, — 

" Suffer little children to come unto me." 

Music binds children to cherubs in glory, 

Chanting the Blessed One's praises on high ; 

Catch we their glad strains, repeat we their story ; 
Back from young lips let the winged sounds fly. 

Sweetest and best of the words that resounded 
From Olivet's mount or by Galilee's sea ; 

List ! he repeats them, by cherubs surrounded, — 
" Suffer little children to come unto me." 



CREATION'S PRAYER. 

"And it shall come to pass in that day, I will hear, saith the Lord, I will hear the 
heavens, and they shall hear the earth ; and the earth shall hear the corn, and the wine, 
and the oil ; and they shall hear Jezreel." — Hosea ii. 21, 22. 

/^NE prayer, with never-ceasing sound, 

Circles Creation's ample round ; 
While all below, and all above, 
Turn, genial Parent, to thy love. 

The corn, and vine, and olive fair, 
Hearken to needy mortal's prayer ; 
And hope, from earth's all-fostering breast, 
To draw their fatness, life, and zest. 



204 S0A r GS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

The nightly mother for her brood, 
Anxious to yield their wonted food, 
Looks up arfd asks the heavenly powers 
For quickening heat and softening showers. 

The flying clouds and fiery ball 
Listen to earth's entreating call ; 
But these implore a Will divine 
For leave to drop, and power to shine. 

Thus through Creation's ample round 
One prayer is heard with pauseless sound ; 
While all below, and all above 
Turn, genial Parent, to thy love. 



Dr. Lunt began a versification of the Psalms. He completed only 
the first three, leaving the fourth in an unfinished state. We cannot 
close our notice of him and of his productions without reference to the 
beautiful poem which he wrote for the laying of the corner-stone of the 
Sailor's Snug Harbor, at Quincy, July 14, 1856. This was his last poem ; 
and the author's recital of it at the time and place just mentioned pro- 
duced a deep effect upon all who heard him. Father Taylor, who was 
present, was most powerfully moved, as those can understand who 
know what was his deep sympathy and love for seamen, and what was 
his great tender heart. The lines are given in full in Miss Lunt's 
" Gleanings." We give here only the closing ones. 



And when the Ancient Mariner shall see 

The gloomy waters of Eternity, 

And in his need, despairing help below, 

Call for a Pilot's skill to steer him through, 

Then may that form benign, whose power to save 

Held trembling Peter steady on the wave, 

Conduct the trusting soul, in safety o'er, 

To a Snug Harbor on the heavenly shore. 



FREDERIC HENRY HEDGE. 205 

FREDERIC HENRY HEDGE. 

(1805.) 

Rev. Frederic H. Hedge, D.D., was born in Cambridge, Mass., Dec. 
12, 1805, and was the son of Levi Hedge, LL.D., who from 1800 was a 
teacher at Harvard College for thirty-two years, having served succes- 
sively as Tutor, a Professor of Logic, Ethics, and Metaphysics, and Alford 
Professor of Moral Philosophy and Civil Polity, and whose " Elements 
of Logic " passed through many editions, and was used in nearly all the 
colleges and more advanced schools in the country. The father of Levi 
Hedge was Rev. Lemuel Hedge, who was the minister at Warwick, 
Mass., and a classmate and friend of the patriot, Joseph Warren, in 
whose pocket, when the latter had fallen at Bunker Hill, was found a 
letter which the former had written, expressive of sympathy with the 
American cause. The mother of Dr. Hedge was a grand-daughter of 
Edward Holyoke, President of Harvard College from 1737 to 1769. 

In 1818 he accompanied George Bancroft to Germany, and there 
studied at Ufeld and Schulpforte ; returned to America, and graduated 
at Harvard College in 1825, having been elected class-poet ; and, 
three years later, graduated at the Theological School at Cambridge. 
He became the pastor of the Congregational Church at West Cam- 
bridge, now Arlington, May 20, 1829. He married, Sept. 7, 1830, Lucy 
T. Pierce, daughter of Rev. John Pierce, D.D., of Brookline, Mass. 
In 1835 he became the minister of the Unitarian Church at Bangor, 
Me., and during his settlement there visited Europe again (1847- 
1848), and spent a winter in Italy. In 1850 he accepted a call to the 
Westminster Church in Providence, R.I., and, six years later, took 
charge of the parish in Brookline of which his father-in-law had formerly 
been so long the well-known and venerated minister, and added to his 
parochial labors for some years, from 1857, the duties of Professor of 
Ecclesiastical History in the Cambridge Theological School. In 1852 
he was honored with the degree of D.D. by Harvard College, of which 
he was appointed Professor of German Literature in 1872, when he sur- 
rendered his charge at Brookline, and removed to Cambridge, where he 
still continues in his academic office and work, and occupies, from Sun- 
day to Sunday, the pulpits of many of the liberal churches. Among the 
various other important positions which he has held may be mentioned 
that of editor of the " Christian Examiner," and also that of President of 
the American Unitarian Association. 

Dr. Hedge has been, in his lifetime, a most learned and industrious 
writer and author as well. In 1848 he published a large volume, " The 
Prose Writers of Germany," in which he gave original sketches of 
numerous authors in German literature, and extracts from their writings, 
largely translated by himself ; in 1853, a " Liturgy for the Use of the 



206 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Church," and also, in connection with Rev. Dr., now Bishop, Hunting- 
ton, "Hymns for the Church; " in 1865, " Reason in Religion," and, in 
1870, "The Primeval World," two volumes in the interest of the Liberal 
Faith, which have attracted much attention, the latter having been even 
translated into German, and published at Berlin. From time to time he 
has published versions of minor poems of Schiller, Goethe, and many 
other German writers ; while the sermons, orations, essays, reviews, &c. 
which.- he has given to the press, in pamphlet or magazine form, and 
which extend through a period of more than forty years, are too numer- 
ous to be mentioned here in detail. Among his most noteworthy articles, 
published in the "Christian Examiner," "Putnam's Monthly," the "At- 
lantic," the " Religious Magazine," and other periodicals, are those which 
he has written on Transcendentalism, Augustine, Leibnitz, Genius, Irony, 
the Method of History, and Schopenhauer. Of his orations and ad- 
dresses, we may mention the one given, in 1840, before the Phi Beta 
Kappa Society at Cambridge, on "Conservatism and Reform ; " another, 
at the request of the Germans of Boston, at the great Schiller Festival in 
that city, in 1859 ; and another still, which was delivered, in 1866, before 
the Alumni of Harvard College, and which has led to a great extension 
of the elective principle in the studies of that University. All these 
numerous productions are marked by the great ability, .the vast erudi- 
tion, the profound thought, the chastened and felicitous diction, and the 
rare combination of the philosophic and poetic qualities of mind, which 
distinguish this author, preacher, and lecturer. 

Dr. Hedge is, moreover, one of the best of hymn-writers, though he 
has not written so much in this line as we could wish he had done. We 
have gathered from various sources all that we could find, and present 
them here. Most of them may be found in the " Hymns for the Church," 
compiled by himself and Dr. Huntington. 



AN INVOCATION. 

A part of a hymn of ten stanzas, which was written for the ordination of Mr. D. H. 
Barlow as pastor of the Second Congregational Society in I.ynn, Mass., Dec. 9, 1829. 
The verses given here are in a greatly altered and revised form. 

SOVEREIGN and transforming Grace, 

We invoke thy quickening power ; 
Reign the spirit of this place, 
Bless the purpose of this hour. 



Holy and creative Light ! 

We invoke thy kindling ray ; 
Dawn upon our spirits' night, 

Turn our darkness into day. 



FREDERIC HENRY HEDGE. 20? 

To the anxious soul impart 

Hope all other hopes above ; 
Stir the dull and hardened heart 

With a longing and a love. 

Give the struggling peace for strife ; 

Give the doubting light for gloom ; 
Speed the living into life ; 

Warn the dying of their doom ; 

Work in all, in all renew, 

Day by day, the life divine ; 
All our wills to thee subdue, 

All our hearts to thee incline. 



BENEATH THINE HAMMER. 

Written at a time of severe trial and deep depression. 

"OENEATH thine hammer, Lord, I lie 

With contrite spirit prone ; 
Oh, mould me till to self I die, 
And live to thee alone ! 

W T ith frequent disappointments sore, 

And many a bitter pain, 
Thou laborest at my being's core 

Till I be formed again. 

Smite, Lord ! thine hammer's needful wound 

My baffled hopes confess ; 
Thine anvil is the sense profound 

Of mine own nothingness. 

Smite, till from all its idols free, 

And filled with love divine, 
My heart shali know no good but thee, 

And have no will but thine. 



208 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

This hymn seems to us worthy of a place among the best ever written.. 
It was composed by Dr. Hedge for a confirmation service in his church 
at Bangor, on Good Friday, 1843. We regret to see that in some of the 
Unitarian Collections it has appeared only in part, and that certain com- 
pilers in other communions have marked it "Anonymous." 

THE CRUCIFIXION. 

"T*WAS the day when God's Anointed 
Died for us the death appointed, 

Bleeding on the guilty cross ; 
Day of darkness, day of terror, 
Deadly fruit of ancient error, 

Nature's fall, and Eden's loss. 

Haste, prepare the bitter chalice ! 
Gentile hate and Jewish malice 

Lift the royal victim high — 
Like the serpent, wonder-gifted, 
Which the Prophet once uplifted — 

For a sinful world to die ! 

Conscious of the deed unholy, 
Nature's pulses beat more slowly 

And the sun his light denied ; 
Darkness wrapped the sacred city, 
And the earth with fear and pity 

Trembled when the Just One died. 

It is finished, Man of sorrows ! 
From thy cross our nature borrows 

Strength to bear and conquer thus. 
While exalted there we view thee, 
Mighty Sufferer, draw us to thee, 

Sufferer victorious ! 

Not in vain for us uplifted, 
Man of sorrows, wonder-gifted ! 

May that sacred symbol be. 
Eminent amid the ages, - 
Guide of heroes and of sages, 

May it guide us still to thee ! 



FREDERIC HENRY HEDGE. 209 

Still to thee, whose love unbounded 
Sorrow's deep for us hath sounded, 

Perfected by conflicts sore. 
Glory to thy cross for ever ! 
Star that points our high endeavor 

Whither thou hast gone before. 



CHRISTMAS HYMN. 

Written for « Hymns of the Church of Christ." 

■ 'qpWAS in the East, the mystic East, 

Where Time his race began, 
Where new-born Nature spread the feast, 
For new created man, — 

The tree of life was planted first, 

So holy Scriptures tell, 
Before the earth with sin was cursed, 

And man from Eden fell. 

That tree un tasted passed away, 

And sin and sorrow grew, 
And tarried long the wished -for day 

To waiting Israel due : — 

Till from the land where Jordan old 

Still washes Judah's shore, 
When God's own hand the page unrolled, 

Of Judah's sacred lore, 

Sprung, to requite that early loss, 

From David's royal root, 
Another Tree, whose stem the cross, 

And Christendom its fruit. 
14 



2IO SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Blest be the Tree of life divine ! 

The hand that gave it blest ! 
Lord, through the earth extend its line, 

And give the nations rest ! 

In us implant its sacred seed, 
And with thy grace bedew, 

And let it, ripening into deed, 
For aye itself renew. 



HYMN. 

Sung at the ordination of Mr. F. A. Whitney, Brighton, Feb. 21, 1844, but written by Dr. 
Hedge for his own ordination, at West Cambridge, in 1829. One stanza in the original is 
lost. 

T O ! another offering 

To thy courts this day we bring ; 
And another laborer here, 
To thy vineyard's service cheer. 
Welcome fellow laborer, thou ! 
Lord, accept thy servant's vow ! 

In thy service he would live — 
Life and strength to thee doth give ; 
Nourished with immortal truth, 
May the vigor of his youth, 
Poured upon thy altar, be 
Grateful incense, Lord, to thee. 

Bless him who this day doth give ; 
Bless them who this day receive. 
Guardian, who dost never sleep ! 
Guard the shepherd and the sheep ; 
Days of earthly pasture past, 
Take them to thy fold at last. 



FREDERIC HENRY HEDGE. 211 

THE MORNING STAR. 

From the " New England Magazine." 

A SINGLE star how bright, 
From earth-mists free, 
In heaven's deep shrine its image burns ! 
Star of the morn, my spirit yearns 
To be with thee. 

Lord of the desert sky ! 

Night's last, lone heir, 
Benign thou smilest from on high, 
Pure, calm, as if an angel's eye 

Were watching there. 

Nor wholly vain I deem 

The Magian plan, 
That, sphered in thee, a spirit reigns 
Who knows this earth, and kindly deigns 

To succor man. 

Gone are thy glittering peers ! 
Quenched each bright spark ; 
Save where some pale sun's lingering ghost, 
Dull remnant of a scattered host, 
Still spots the dark. 

But thou, propitious star, 

Night's youngest born, 
Wilt not withdraw thy steady light 
Till bursts on yonder snow-clad height 

The rosy morn. 

Fair orb ! I love to watch 

Thy tranquil ray ; 
Emblem art thou of Hope that springs 
When joys are fled, and dreaming brings 

The better day. 



212 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

So, when from my life's course 
Its stars are riven, 
Dawn on my soul, prophetic light, 
That gilds old age's winter night 
With hope of heaven ! 



SONG OF THE ANGELS. 

From Goethe's " Faust." 
RAPHAEL. 

HPHE sun is still for ever sounding 

With brother spheres his rival song, 
As on his destined journey bounding, 
With thunder step he speeds along. 
The sight gives angels strength, though greater 



Than angels' utmost thought sublime ; 
And all thy wondrous works, Creator, 
Are glorious as in Eden's prime. 

GAJ3RIEL. 

And fleetly, thought -surpassing fleetly, 

The earth's green pomp is spinning round \ 
There Paradise alternates sweetly 

With Night terrific and profound ; 
There foams the sea, its broad waves beating 

Against the tall cliff's rocky base : 
And rock and sea away are fleeting 

In everlasting spheral chase. 

MICHAEL. 

And storms with rival fury heaving 

From land to sea, from sea to land, 
Still, as they rave, a chain are weaving 

Of deepest efficacy grand. 
There burning Desolation blazes, 

Precursor of the Thunder's way ; 
But, Lord, thy servants own with praises 

The milder movement of thy day. 



FREDERIC HENRY HEDGE. 213 



THE THREE. 



The sight gives angels strength, though greater 
Than angels' utmost thought sublime ; 

And all thy wondrous works, Creator, 
Are glorious as in Eden's prime. 



With reference to the following song from Goethe's "Faust," Bayard 
Taylor in his "Notes" says that the "final chorus of the angels is a 
stumbling-block to the translator, on account of the fivefold dactylic 
rhyme;" and adds, "Dr. Hedge, I believe, is the only one who has hith- 
erto endeavored to reproduce the difficult structure of this chorus." 



EASTER HYMN. 

From Goethe's " Faust." 
ANGELS. 

r^HRIST hath arisen ! 

Joy to our buried Head ! 
Whom the unmerited, 
Trailing inherited 
Woes, did imprison ! 

WOMEN. 

Costly devices 

We had prepared, 
Shrouds and sweet spices, 

Linen and nard. 
Woe the disaster ! 

Whom we here laid ; 
Gone is the Master, 

Empty his bed. 

ANGELS. 

Christ hath arisen 
Loving and glorious ; 
Out of laborious 
Conflict victorious, 
Christ hath arisen. 



214 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

DISCIPLES. 

Hath the inhumated 

Upward aspiring, 
Hath he consummated 

All his desiring? 
Is he in being's bliss, 

Near to creative Joy ? 
Wearily we in this 

Earthly house sigh : 
Empty and hollow, us 

Left he unblest ; 
Master ! thy followers 

Envy thy rest. . 

ANGELS. 

Christ hath arisen 

Out of corruption's womb. 
Burst every prison ! 

Vanish death's gloom ! 
Active in charity, 
Praise him in verity ! 
His feast, prepare it ye ! 
His message, bear it ye ! 
His joy, declare it ye ! 

Then is the Master near, 

Then is he here. 



LUTHER'S HYMN. 

This well-known translation of Luther's famous Battle Hymn of the Reformation, by 
Dr. Hedge, first appeared in Dr. Furness's Gems of German Verse. It has been sung on 
many public occasions, as at the recent laying of the corner-stone of " Memorial Hall," at 
Cambridge. It is erroneously attributed to Rev. Samuel Longfellow, in Mr. Martineau's 
new Collection. 

A MIGHTY fortress is our God, 

A bulwark never failing ; 
Our helper he amid the flood 
Of mortal ills prevailing. 



FREDERIC HENRY HEDGE. 21$ 

For still our ancient foe 
Doth seek to work us woe ; 
His craft and power are great, 
And, armed with cruel hate, 
On earth is not his equal. 

Did we in our own strength confide, 

Our striving would be losing, — 
Were not the right man on our side, 
The man of God's own choosing. 
Dost ask who that may be ? 
Christ Jesus, it is he, 
Lord Sabaoth his name, 
From age to age the same, 
And he must win the battle. 

And though this world, with devils filled, 

Should threaten to undo us, 
We will not fear, for God hath willed 
His truth to triumph through us. 
The Prince of Darkness grim, 
We tremble not for him, 
His rage we can endure, 
For lo ! his doom is sure, 
One little word shall fell him. 

That word above all earthly powers, 

No thanks to them, abideth, 
The spirit and the gifts are ours 
Through Him who with us sideth. 
Let goods and kindred go, 
This mortal life also : 
The body they may kill, 
God's truth abideth still, 
His Kingdom is for ever. 



2l6 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



VENI, SANCTE SPIRITUS. 

A translation of the "Veni, Sancte Spiritus," of King Robert II. of France, taken from 
Professor Child's collection of " Poems of Sorrow and Comfort." 

"LTOLY Spirit, Fire divine, 

Send from heaven a ray of thine ; 

Lighten our obscurity ! 
Come, thou Father of the poor, 
Come, thou Giver and Renewer, — 

Fountain of all purity ! 

Visit us, Consoler best, — 

Thou the bosom's sweetest guest, 

Sweetest comfort proffering : 
Thou dost give the weary rest, 
Shade to all with heat oppressed, 

Solace in all suffering. 

O, blest Light ineffable ! 
With thy faithful amply dwell ; 

Lord of our humanity, 
Nothing lives without thy ray; 
Reft of thy enlivening day, 

All is void and vanity. 

What is foul, oh ! purify ; 
Water what in us is dry ; 

All our hurts alleviate : 
Bend our temper's rigidness ; 
Warm our nature's frigidness ; 

Bring back all who deviate. 

Give them who in thee abide, — 
All that do in thee confide, — 

Give them grace increasingly ; 
Give to virtue its reward, 
Saving end to all accord, 

Joy in heaven unceasingly. 



HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 2\J 

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

(1807.) 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, a name which, like that of Wil- 
liam Cullen Bryant, is endeared to countless homes and hearts in our 
own land and in the Old World, was born in Portland, Me., Feb. 27, 
1S07. His father was Hon. Stephen Longfellow of that city; and his 
earliest ancestor in this country was William Longfellow, who was born 
in Hampshire, England, in 1651, and emigrated to Newbury, Mass., 
where he married Anne Sewall, in 1676. The poet, on his mother's side, 
is a descendant of John Alden, who came over in the Mayflower, and who 
was the first man who landed in Plymouth. 

He graduated at Bowdoin College, in the same class with Hawthorne, 
in 1825, and the next year was appointed Professor of Modern Languages ; 
but, before entering upon the duties of his position, made a tour of 
Europe, visiting France, Spain, Italy, Germany, Holland, and England. 
In 1835 Re was called to succeed George Ticknor as the Professor of 
Modern Languages in Harvard College, and again went abroad still 
more fully to prepare himself for his work. Returning once more to 
America, he assumed the office to which he had been elected, and held 
it until 1854. Since that year he has continued to reside at Cambridge, 
still occupying the stately old mansion known as the " Craigie House," 
where Washington had his head-quarters after the battle of Bunker Hill. 

Mr. Longfellow has repeated his visits to Europe several times during 
the last thirty or forty years, and has there received marked honors from 
literary circles and renowned universities, as well as abundant demon- 
strations of gratitude and love from the untitled many who also had 
been touched and blest by the gracious offerings of his genius. As no 
one has more sweetly and delicately voiced in prose and song the gentler 
feelings, the purer instincts, the nobler aspirations, and all the common 
joys and sorrows of human souls than he has done, so no one has gained 
a surer entrance into the inmost sanctuary of his readers, near and afar, 
or endeared himself to them by stronger ties of personal affection, sym- 
pathy, and interest. Not to speak of the rich treasures which, in his 
numerous Translations, and in his volume of "Poets and Poetry of 
Europe," he has opened to us through his studies of foreign languages 
and literatures, what a priceless legacy has he bequeathed to the millions 
in the long list of his own beautiful romances and immortal poems, which 
he has given to the public, from the time when in his youth he wrote 
verses for the "United States Gazette" and the "Knickerbocker," and 
afterward published his " Outre Mer " and " Hyperion ;" and what memo- 
ries of sacred hours of inspiration and comfort throng upon us, as we recall 
our first acquaintance with the Voices of the Night, Evangeline, Kava- 
nagh, The Golden Legend, The Song of Hiawatha, Tales of a Wayside 
Inn, The Divine Tragedy, Excelsior, The Arsenal at Springfield, Resig- 



21 8 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

nation, The Ladder of St. Augustine, The Two Angels, The Children's 
Hour, and others we need not name ! There is an elevation and refine- 
ment of thought, a melting pathos of sentiment, and a magic charm of 
expression, in them all, that leaves indeed but little to be desired, and 
that makes the world evermore a debtor to him who wrote them. 

Not many of his pieces have so taken, in the strict sense of the word, 
the hymn form, as to be adapted to ordinary use in church worship. 
Yet several of them are in various Collections, and a much larger number 
are particularly suitable for a compilation like this. The first four 
which we appropriate are from the "Voices of the Night," originally 
Dublished in 1839. 

HYMN TO THE NIGHT. 

'A<Tira<TL7], TpiAA(.<TTOS- 

T HEARD the trailing garments of the Night 

Sweep through her marble halls ! 
I saw her sable skirts all fringed. with light 

From the celestial walls ! 

I felt her presence, by its spell of might, 

Stoop o'er me from above ; 
The calm' majestic presence of the Night, 

As of the one I love. 

I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight, 

The manifold, soft chimes, 
That fill the haunted chambers of the Night, 

Like some old poet's rhymes. 

From the cool cisterns of the midnight air 

My spirit drank repose ; 
The fountain of perpetual peace flows there, — 

From those deep cisterns flows. 

O holy Night ! from thee I learn to bear 

What man has borne before ! 
Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care, 

And they complain no more. 

Peace ! Peace ! Orestes-like I breathe this prayer ! 

Descend with broad-winged flight, 
The welcome, the thrice-prayed-for, the most fair, 

The best beloved Night ! 



HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 2ig 
A PSALM OF LIFE. 

What the heart of the young man said to the Psalmist. 

/ T S ELL me not, in mournful numbers, 

Life is but an empty dream ! 
For the soul is dead that slumbers, 
And things are not what they seem. 

Life is real ! Life is earnest ! 

And the grave is not its goal ; 
Dust thou art, to dust returnest, 

Was not spoken of the soul. 

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, 

Is our destined end or way ; 
But to act, that each to-morrow 

Find us farther than to-day. 

Art is long, and Time is fleeting ; 

And our hearts, though stout and brave, 
Still, like muffled drums, are beating 

Funeral marches to the grave. 

In the world's broad field of battle, 

In the bivouac of Life, 
Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! 

Be a hero in the strife ! 

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant ! 

Let the dead Past bury its dead ! 
Act — act in the living Present ! 

Heart within, and God o'erhead ! 

Lives of great men all remind us 

We can make our lives sublime, 
And, departing, leave behind us 

Footprints on the sands of time, — 

Footprints, that perhaps another, 

Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, 

Seeing, shall take heart again. 



220 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Let us, then, be up and doing, 
With a heart for any fate ; 

Still achieving, still pursuing, 
Learn to labor and to wait. 



THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS. 

HPHERE is a Reaper, whose name is Death, 

And, with his sickle keen, 
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, 
And the flowers that grow between. 

" Shall I have naught that is fair ? " saith he ; 

"Have naught but the bearded grain? 
Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, 

I will give them all back again." 

He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, 

He kissed their drooping leaves. 
It was for the Lord of Paradise 

He bound them in his sheaves. 

" My Lord hath need of these flowerets gay," 

The Reaper said, and smiled ; 
" Dear tokens of the earth are they, 

Where he was once a child. 

" They shall all bloom in fields of light, 

Transplanted by my care, 
And saints, upon their garments white, 

These sacred blossoms wear." 

And the mother gave, in tears, and pain, 

The flowers she most did love ; 
She knew she should find them all again 

In the fields of light above. 

O, not in cruelty, not in wrath, 

The Reaper came that day ; 
'Twas an Angel visited the green earth, 

And took the flowers away. 



HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 221 



FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS. 

T17HEN the hours of Day are numbered, 

And the voices of the Night 
Wake the better soul that slumbered, 
To a holy, calm delight ; 

Ere the evening lamps are lighted, 
And, like phantoms grim and tall, 

Shadows from the fitful firelight 
Dance upon the parlor-wall : 

Then the forms of the departed 

Enter at the open door, — 
The beloved, the true-hearted, 

Come to visit me once more. 

He, the young and strong, who cherished 

Noble longings for the strife, 
By the roadside fell and perished, 

Weary with the march of life ! 

They, the holy ones and weakly, 
Who the cross of suffering bore, 

Folded their pale hands so meekly, 
Spake with us on earth no more ! 

And with them the Being Beauteous 
Who unto my youth was given, 

More than all things else to love me, 
And is now a saint in heaven. 

With a slow and noiseless footstep 

Comes that messenger divine, 
Takes the vacant chair beside me, 

Lays her gentle hand in mine. 

And she sits and gazes at me 
With those deep and tender eyes, 

Like the stars, so still and saint-like, 
Looking downward from the skies. 



222 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Uttered not, yet comprehended 
Is the spirit's voiceless prayer, 

Soft rebuke, in blessing ended, 
Breathing from her lips of air. 

O, though oft depressed and lonely, 

All my fears are laid aside, 
If I but remember only 
• Such as these have lived and died. 



THE RAINY DAY. 

HPHE day is cold, and dark, and dreary ; 

It rains, and the wind is never weary ; 
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, 
But at every gust the dead leaves fall, 

And the day is dark and dreary. 

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary ; 
It rains, and the wind is never weary ; 
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past, 
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast, 
And the days are dark and dreary. 

Be still, sad heart ! and cease repining ; 
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining ; 
Thy fate is the common fate of all, 
Into each life some rain must fall, 

Some days must be dark and dreary. 



GOD'S-ACRE. 

|" LIKE that ancient Saxon phrase which calls 

The burial-ground God's- Acre ! It is just ; 
It consecrates each grave within its walls, 

And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust. 



HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 223 

God's-Acre ! Yes, that blessed name imparts 
Comfort to those who in the grave have sown 

The seed that they had garnered in their hearts ; 
Their bread of life, alas ! no more their own. 

Into its furrows shall we all be cast, 

In the sure faith that we shall rise again 

At the great harvest, when the Archangel's blast 
Shall winnow, like a fan, the chaff and grain. 

Then shall the good stand in immortal bloom, 
In the fair gardens of that second birth ; 

And each bright blossom mingle its perfume 

With that of flowers which never bloomed on earth. 

With thy rude ploughshare, Death, turn up the sod, 
And spread the furrow for the seed we sow ; 

This is the field and Acre of our God, 
This is the place where human harvests grow ! 

THE ARSENAL AT SPRINGFIELD. 

The last four stanzas. 

"Y\7*ERE half the power that fills the world with terror, 

Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts, 
Given to redeem the human mind from error, 
There were no need of arsenals or forts. 

The warrior's name would be a name abhorred ! 

And every nation, that should lift again 
Its hand against a brother, on its forehead 

Would wear for evermore the curse of Cain ! 

Down the dark future, through long generations, 
The echoing sounds grow fainter, and then cease ; 

And like a bell, with solemn sweet vibrations, 

I hear once more the voice of Christ say, " Peace ! " 

Peace ! and no longer from its brazen portals 
The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies ! 

But beautiful as songs of the immortals, 
The holy melodies of love arise. 



224 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



RESIGNATION. 

npHERE is no flock, however watched and tended, 

But one dead lamb is there ! 
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, 
But has one vacant chair. 

The air is full of farewells to the dying, 

And mournings for the dead ; 
The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, 

Will not be. comforted ! 

Let us be patient ! These severe afflictions 

Not from the ground arise, 
But oftentimes celestial benedictions 

Assume this dark disguise. 

We see but dimly through the mists and vapors ; 

Amid these earthly damps, 
What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers 

May be heaven's distant lamps. 

There is no Death ! what seems so is transition ; 

This life of mortal breath 
Is but a suburb of the life elysian, 

Whose portal we call Death. 

She is not dead, — the child of our affection, — 

But gone unto that school 
Where she no longer needs our poor protection, 

And Christ himself doth rule. 

In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, 

By guardian angels led, 
Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollutions, 

She lives whom we call dead. 

Day after day we think what she is doing 

In those bright realms of air ; 
Year after year, her tender steps pursuing, 

Behold her grown more fair. 



HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 22$ 

Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken 

The bond which nature gives, 
Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken, 

May reach her where she lives. 

Not as a child shall we again behold her : 

For when with raptures wild 
In our embraces we again enfold her, 

She will not be a child : 

* 

But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion, 

Clothed with celestial grace ; 
And beautiful with all the soul's expansion 

Shall we behold her face. 

And though at times impetuous with emotion, 

And anguish long suppressed, 
The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean, 

That cannot be at rest, — 

We will be patient, and assuage the feeling 

We may not wholly stay ; 
By silence sanctifying, not concealing, 

The grief that must have way. 

SUSPIRIA. 

HPAKE them, Q Death ! and bear away 
Whatever thou canst call thine own ! 
Thine image, stamped upon this clay, 
Doth give thee that, but that alone ! 

Take them, O Grave ! and let them lie 

Folded upon thy narrow shelves, 
As garments by the soul laid by, 

And precious only to ourselves ! 

Take them, O great Eternity ! 

Our little life is but a gust 
That bends the branches of thy tree, 

And trails its blossoms in the dust ! 
15 



226 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH, 

HYMN 
For my Brother's Ordination. 

/"*HRIST to the young man said: "Yet one thing 
more: 

If thou wouldst perfect be, 
Sell all thou hast and give it to the poor, 

And come and follow me ! " 

Within this temple Christ again, unseen, 

Those sacred words hath said, 
And his invisible hands to-day have been 

Laid on a young man's head. 

And evermore beside him on his way 

The unseen Christ shall move, 
That he may lean upon his arm and say, 

" Dost thou, dear Lord, approve ? " 

Beside him at the marriage feast shall be, 

To make the scene more fair ; 
Beside him in the dark Gethsemane 

Of pain and midnight prayer. 

O holy trust ! O endless sense of rest ! 

Like the beloved John 
To lay his head upon the Saviour's breast, 

And thus to journey on ! 

THE LADDER OF SAINT AUGUSTINE. 

O AINT AUGUSTINE ! well hast thou said, 

That of our vices we can frame 
A ladder, if we will but tread 

Beneath our feet each deed of shame ! 



HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 227 

All common things, each day's events, 

That with the hour begin and end, 
Our pleasures and our discontents, 

Are rounds by which we may ascend. 

The low desire, the base design, 

That makes another's virtues less ; 
The revel of the ruddy wine, 

And all occasions of excess ; 

The longing for ignoble things ; 

The strife for triumph more than truth ; 
The hardening of the heart, that brings 

Irreverence for the dreams of youth ; 

All thoughts of ill ; all evil deeds, 

That have their root in thoughts of ill ; 

"Whatever hinders or impedes 
The action of the nobler will : — 

All these must first be trampled down 

Beneath our feet, if we would gain 
In the bright fields of fair renown 

The right of eminent domain. 

We have not wings, we cannot soar ; 

But we have feet to scale and climb 
By slow degrees, by more and more, 

The cloudy summits of our time. 

The mighty pyramids of stone 

That wedge-like cleave the desert airs, 

When nearer seen, and better known, 
Are but gigantic flights of stairs. 

The distant mountains, that uprear 

Their solid bastions to the skies, 
Are crossed by pathways, that appear 

As we to higher levels rise. 



228 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH, 

The heights by great men reached and kept 
Were not attained by sudden flight, 

But they, while their companions slept, 
Were toiling upward in the night. 

Standing on what too long we bore 
With shoulders bent and downcast eyes, 

We may discern — unseen before — 
A path to higher destinies. 

Nor deem the irrevocable Past 
As wholly wasted, wholly vain, 

If, rising on its wrecks, at last 
To something nobler we attain. 



THE TWO ANGELS. 

The last two stanzas. 

A LL is of God ! If he but wave his hand, 

The mists collect, the rain falls thick and loud, 
Till, with a smile of light on sea and land, 
Lo ! he looks back from the departing cloud. 

Angels of Life and Death alike are his ; 

Without his leave they pass no threshold o'er ; 
Who, then, would wish or dare, believing this, 

Against his messengers to shut the door ? 



CHILDREN. 

/^OME to me, O ye children ! 

For I hear you at your play, 
And the questions that perplexed me 
Have vanished quite away. 

Ye open the Eastern windows, 
That look towards the sun, 

Where thoughts are singing swallows 
And the brooks of morning run. 



HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 229 

In your hearts are the birds and the sunshine, 

In your thoughts the brooklet's flow, 
But in mine is the wind of Autumn 

And the first fall of the snow. 

Ah ! what would the world be to us 

If the children were no more ? 
We should dread the desert behind us 

Worse than the dark before. 

What the leaves are to the forest, 

With light and air for food, 
Ere their sweet and tender juices 

Have been hardened into wood, — 

That to the world are children ; 

Through them it feels the glow 
Of a brighter and sunnier climate 

Than reaches the trunks below. 

Come to me, O ye children ! 

And whisper in my ear 
What the birds and the winds are singing 

In your sunny atmosphere. 

For what are all our contrivings, 

And the wisdom of our books, 
When compared with your caresses, 

And the gladness of your looks ? 

Ye are better than all the ballads 

That ever were sung or said ; 
For ye are the living poems, 

And all the rest are dead. 



A DAY OF SUNSHINE. 

r\ GIFT of God ! O perfect day ! 

^- > ^ Whereon shall no man work, but play; 

Whereon it is enough for me, 

Not to be doing, but to be. 



230 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

. Through every fibre of my brain, 
Through every nerve, through every vein, 
I feel the electric thrill, the touch 
Of life, that seems almost too much. 

I hear the wind among the trees 
Playing celestial symphonies ; 
I see the branches downward bent, 
Like keys of some great instrument. 

And over me unrolls on high 
The splendid scenery of the sky ; 
Where, through a sapphire sea, the sun 
Sails like a golden galleon. 

Towards yonder cloud-land in the West, 
Towards yonder Islands of the Blest, 
Whose steep sierra far uplifts 
Its craggy summits, white with drifts. 

Blow, winds ! and waft through all the rooms 
The snow-flakes of the cherry-blooms ! 
Blow, winds ! and bend within my reach 
The fiery blossoms of the peach ! 

O Life and Love ! O happy throng 
Of thoughts, whose only speech is song ! 
O heart of man ! canst thou not be 
Blithe as the air.is, and as free ? 



WEARINESS. 

(~\ LITTLE feet ! that such long years 

^~ > ^ Must wander on through hopes and fears, 

Must ache and bleed beneath your load : 
I, nearer to the wayside inn 
Where toil shall cease and rest begin, 

Am weary, thinking of your road ! 



HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 23 1 

O little hands ! that, weak or strong, 
Have still to serve or rule so long, 

Have still so long to give or ask : 
I, who so much with book and pen 
Have toiled among my fellow-men, 

Am weary, thinking of your task. 

O little hearts ! that throb and beat 
With such impatient, feverish heat, 

Such limitless and strong desires : 
Mine, that so long has glowed and burned, 
With passions into ashes turned 

Now covers and conceals its fires. 

O little souls ! as pure and white 
And crystalline as rays of light 

Direct from heaven, their source divine : 
Refracted through the mist of years, 
How red my setting sun appears, 

How lurid looks this soul of mine ! 



PALINGENESIS. 

The last three stanzas. 

TNTO what land of harvests, what plantations 
Bright with autumnal foliage and the glow 
Of sunsets burning low ; 
Beneath what midnight skies, whose constellations 
Light up the spacious avenues between 
This world and the unseen ; 

Amid what friendly greetings and caresses, 
What households, though not alien, yet not mine, 

What bowers of rest divine ; 
To what temptations in lone wildernesses, 
What famine of the heart, what pain and loss, 

The bearing of what cross ; 



232 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

I do not know ; nor will I vainly question 
Those pages of the mystic book which hold 

The story still untold, 
But without rash conjecture or suggestion 
Turn its last leaves in reverence and good heed, 

Until " The End " I read. 



SARAH ELIZABETH MILES. 
(1807.) 

Mrs. Sarah E. Miles was born in Boston, Mass., March 28, 1807. 
Her parents were Nathaniel W. Appleton and Sarah (Tilden) Appleton, 
of that city. In 1833 she was married to Solomon P. Miles, who was 
at that time Principal of the Boston High School, but afterwards of a 
ladies' private school. He died in 1842. Mrs. Miles, until within a few 
years, continued to reside in or near Boston, but has latterly lived in 
Brattleboro', Vt., where she still has her home. The few of her hymns or 
poems which have been published were sent to the printer by her father, 
who did not fail to discover their rare merit ; and they were mostly com- 
posed by the writer while she was yet at a very early age. The first 
three which we give are in some of the hymn-books : the last three are 
contributions to this volume, and have not appeared before. We present 
them all in their entire and authorized form, as they have been received 
from Mrs. Miles herself. Whether produced at an earlier or later period 
of life, they reveal a gift of song, a degree of culture, a depth of experience, 
and a spirit of Christian faith and love, which seem to us to assign 
her a place among our best hymn- writers. 

LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 

This favorite hymn originally appeared in the " Christian Examiner " in 1827, and has 
since been adopted by many compilers, Orthodox and Liberal, in America and England. 

'T^HOU, who didst stoop below 
To drain the clip of woe, 
Wearing the form of frail mortality ; 

Thy blessed labors done, 

Thy crown of victory won, 
Hast passed from earth, passed to thy home on high. 



SARAH ELIZABETH MILES. 233 

Our eyes behold thee not, 

Yet hast thou not forgot 
Those who have placed their hope, their trust, in thee ; 

Before thy Father's face 

Thou hast prepared a place, 
That where thou art, there they may also be. 

It was no path of flowers, 

Which, through this world of ours, 
Beloved of the Father, thou didst tread ; 

And shall we in dismay 

Shrink from the narrow way, 
When clouds and darkness are around it spread ? 

O thou, who art our life, 

Be with us through the strife ; 
Thy holy head by earth's fierce storms was bowed \ 

Raise thou our eyes above, 

To see a Father's love 
Beam like the bow of promise through the cloud. 

And, O, if thoughts of gloom 

Should hover o'er the tomb, 
That light of love our guiding star shall be ; 

Our spirits shall not dread 

The shadowy way to tread, 
Friend, Guardian, Saviour, which doth lead to thee. 

HEAVEN. 

"rom the " Christian Examiner," 1828. The compilers of the " Hymns of the Spirit " 
have divided this hymn into two. See Nos. 190 and 631. 

HPHE earth, all light and loveliness 

In summer's golden hours, 
Smiles in her bridal vesture clad, 

And crowned with festal flowers. 
So radiantly beautiful, 

So like to heaven above, 
We scarce can deem more fair that world 

Of perfect bliss and love. 



234 SOJVGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Is this a shadow faint and dim 

Of that which is to come ? 
What shall the unveiled splendor be 

Of our celestial home, 
Where waves the glorious tree of life, 

Where streams of bliss gush free, 
And all is glowing in the light 

Of immortality ! 

When on devotion's seraph-wing, 

The spirit soars above, 
And feels thy presence, Father, Friend, 

God of eternal love ! 
The joys of earth fade swift away 

Before that living ray, 
Which gives to the rapt soul a glimpse 

Of pure and perfect day ! 

A gleam of heaven's own light, though now 

Its brightness scarce appears 
Through the pale shadows that are spread 

Around our earthly years ; 
But thine unclouded smile, O God ! 

Fills that all-glorious place, 
Wliere we shall know as we are known, 

And see thee face to face. 



IN AFFLICTION. 

The 2d, 4th, and 5th stanzas form the 597th hymn in the " Hymns of the Spirit. 

"RATHER, direct my ways ! 

Wisdom and strength art thou ! 
And in these evil days, 

As at thy throne I bow, 
I feel that thou alone canst be 
A refuge and defence for me. 



SARAH ELIZABETH MILES, 235 

Thou, infinite in love, 

Guide this bewildered mind, 
Which, like the trembling dove, 

No resting-place can find 
On the wild waters, — God of light, 
Through the thick darkness lead me right. 

Bid the fierce conflict cease, 

Terror and anguish fly ; 
Let there again be peace, 

As in the days gone by : 
In Jesus' name I cry to thee, 
Remembering Gethsemane. 

Fain would earth's true and dear 

Save me in this dark hour ; 
And art not thou more near ? 

Art thou not love and power ? 
Vain is the help of man, — but thou 
Canst send deliverance even now. 

Though through the future's shade 

Pale phantoms I descry, 
Let me not shrink dismayed, 

But ever feel thee nigh ; 
There may be grief, and pain, and care, 
But, O my Father ! thou art there. 



The following pieces, as before stated, are published here for the first 
time : — 

THE HOUR OF DARKNESS. 

T1TOW long, O Lord ! how long 

Shall on my spirit rest 
This weight of darkness and distress ? 

How long unto my burning lips be pressed 
This overflowing cup of bitterness ? 
O God ! my God ! only thine arm hath power 
To bear me through the anguish of this hour. 



236 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

How long, O-Lord ! how long ! 

Many to rest have gone ; 
The lovely and beloved are with thee 

In peace and glory — while I faint alone 
Beneath this burden of mortality. 
Yet not alone, — art thou not near ? I bend, 
Praying for strength enduring to the end. 

How long, O Lord ! how long ! 

I bow me to thy will, 
Believing in tender love thou dost chastise — 

Say to my heart's wild throbbings, Peace ! be still ! 
Father, to thee, to thee I lift mine eyes ! 
Is not thy smile to patient sufferance given, 
Gilding earth's darkness with a gleam of heaven ? 

How long, O Lord ! how long ! 

A soft still voice I hear, 
Speaking to my worn spirit words of life, — 

" O thou of little faith ! how canst thou fear ? 
I, even I, am with thee through the strife. 
Weeping and grief endure but for a night ; 
The morning breaketh in celestial light." 



"THOU GOD SEEST ME." 

"G\ATHER, to thee alone 

Is thy child's spirit known, 
To thee it lieth open as the light. 

Thine eye of mercy sees 

The heart's deep mysteries, 
Which are so closely veiled from human sight. 

And I rejoice to feel, 

As I before thee kneel, 
From thee there is no covering, no disguise. 

Though heavy clouds of sin 

Obscure the light within, 
My God, I would not hide me from thine eyes. 



SARAH ELIZABETH MILES. 237 

Save in the evil hour ! 

Save from the tempter's power ! 
Thou to whom darkness shineth as the day, 

Glorious in purity ! 

The heart, which rests on thee 
In contrite trust, thou wilt not cast away. 

Bless, purify, control 

The fountains of the soul ; 
Bid thy good Spirit o'er the waters move. 

Then shall this breast of mine 

Be as a holy shrine, 
Filled with thy Spirit, glowing with thy love. 



O LORD, DELIVER! 

f~\ LORD, deliver ! when the unclouded ray 

Of earthly joy upon our path is glowing, 
When gentle waters flow beside the way, 

And flowers of Eden are around us blowing ; 
When siren-voices fill the air ; when mirth 

And gladness founts of pleasure are unsealing ; 
When silken cords are binding us to earth, 

And soft delusion o'er our souls is stealing, — 
Then, Father, save ! 

O Lord, deliver ! when the tempest's wing 

Sweeps wildly o'er the way our feet are treading, 
When deep and deeper shades are gathering, 

A horror of great darkness round us spreading ; 
When hope deferred is preying on the heart ; 

When friends, true friends, in death's embrace are 
sleeping ; 
When, cold and faithless, trusted ones depart, 

And we alone our mournful watch are keeping, — 
Then, Father, save ! 



238 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

O Lord, deliver ! in that solemn hour 

When mysteries of life and death are blending ; 
When the stern angel, with a hand of power, 

The veil from the eternal world is rending ; 
And light is on the spirit, — piercing rays, — 

Forgotten sins, secret offences, bringing 
Before the soul, which, shrinking from the blaze, 

For aid, for mercy, to thine arm is clinging, — 
Then, Father, save ! 

STEPHEN GREENLEAF BULFINCH. 

(1809-1870.) 

Rev. Stephen G. Bulfinch, D.D., was born in Boston, June 18, 
1809, and was the son of Charles Bulfinch, a prominent citizen and a 
well-known architect, who was the designer of the National Capitol at 
Washington, and removed thither with his family in 1818. The son 
graduated at Columbia College, in that city, in 1827, and at the Theologi- 
cal School at Cambridge in 1830. He soon entered upon the work of an 
evangelist at Augusta, Ga., and received ordination to the ministry from 
Rev. Samuel Gilman, of Charleston, S.C., Jan. 9, 1831. At subsequent 
periods of his life, he was settled over various Unitarian societies in other 
parts of the country, — at Pittsburgh, Pa., during the winter of 1837- 
1838; at Washington, D.C., in 1838; at Nashua, N.H., in 1845; at 
Dorchester (Harrison Square) in 1852 ; and at East Cambridge, Mass., 
in 1865. He died at the last-named place, suddenly, of disease of 
the heart, Oct. 12, 1870. Said the "Boston Transcript," in a fitting 
tribute to his worth, just after his decease : " Of a beautiful spirit, ear- 
nest convictions, sympathetic and devout nature, he won the respect and 
love of the people wherever he served, and was known by them all for 
his pure and blameless life, and his conscientious and Christian fidelity in 
all professional and personal relations." 

He married, Oct. 4, 1836, Miss Maria Howard, of Savannah, Ga., who 
died during his ministry at Pittsburgh. His second marriage was in 
December, 1842, to Miss Caroline Phelps, of Hadley, Mass., now resi- 
dent at Cambridge. 

Dr. Bulfinch was a laborious student and a most diligent writer, and 
enriched the Christian literature of the religious body to which he be- 
longed with a large number of excellent published discourses and maga- 



STEPHEN GREENLEAF BULFINCH. 239 

zine articles, and with many volumes of his prose and poetry. The latter 
are, " Contemplations of the Saviour," a series of extracts from the Gos- 
pels, with reflections and original and selected hymns, 1832 (reprinted in 
England) ; " Poems," dedicated to Rev. Dr. and Mrs. Gilman, of Charles- 
ton, 1834; "The Holy Land and its Inhabitants," a number of the 
" Sunday School Library," 1834; "Lays of the Gospel," founded on his 
"Contemplations of the Saviour," and embracing most of the author's 
sacred hymns and poems, 1845 ; " Communion Thoughts," consisting of 
extracts from sermons and of some verses not before published, 1850 ; 
" Palestine and the Hebrew People," a Sunday school text-book, 1853 ; 
" The Harp and the Cross," a collection of religious poetry from different 
sources, prepared for the American Unitarian Association, 1857 ; " Honor, 
or the Slave-Dealer's Daughter," a novel, 1864 ; choice selections from 
Shakespeare, entitled "Shakespeare, adapted for Reading Classes and 
for the Family Circle," which he edited, in connection with his brother, 
Thomas Bulfinch, 1865 J " Manual of the Evidences of Christianity," 
1866; and " Studies in the Evidences of Christianity," 1869. He pre- 
pared also some Grecian stories, which were about to appear in the 
" Student and Schoolmate " at the time of his death. Dr. Bulfinch was 
a good Greek and Hebrew scholar, and, during the first term of the col- 
lege year at Cambridge, in 1 864-1 865, he taught Hebrew in the Divinity 
School for Dr. Noyes, who was sick ; and in the last hours of his own 
life he received a notice of his appointment as the teacher of Greek in 
the same institution. He received his degree of D.D. from Columbia 
College in 1864. 

As a writer of hymns, Dr. Bulfinch has had few superiors in the com- 
munion to which he belonged. Most of his poetry is of a deeply religious 
character, and is marked by a natural simplicity and flow of thought, an 
unusual purity, and beauty of diction, a high degree of spiritual fervor, 
and that element of devout feeling and tender love which dwelt so richly 
in the soul itself of this gentle and saintly bard, from earliest youth even 
to the last. Many of his hymns, originally published in his own volumes, 
are now to be found in numerous Compilations. Some of the best and 
most cherished of them, such as "Hail to the Sabbath day," "Lord, in 
whose might the Saviour trod," "O suffering Friend of human kind," 
" Hath not thy heart within thee burned," and others of like merit, 
appeared in his " Contemplations of the Saviour," as long ago as 1832, 
when their author was only twenty-three years of age. When his little 
volume of " Poems " was published in Charleston, in 1834, only five 
copies of it were sold in that city, and of these Dr. and Mrs. Gilman 
bought three. Since then, not a few of the hymns which it contained 
have been sung in numberless churches, of different sects, in our own 
country and across the seas. We take such as we present here mostly 
from the larger edition of his poetical writings, "Lays of the Gospel," 
in which some of his earlier verses appear variously altered or extended. 



240 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

BIRTH OF JOHN THE BAPTIST. 

"The dayspring from on high " — Luke i. 78. 

'T^OILING through the livelong night, 

Faint, uncertain of his way, 
How the traveller hails the light, 
Herald of the coming day ! 

Thus, when fraud and rapine threw 
O'er the world their cloud afar, 

On the good man's raptured view 
Broke the dawn of Judah's star. 

Tears of joy and gratitude 

Hailed the Baptist's natal morn, 

For the heavenly light renewed, 
For another prophet born. 

Born to go before the face 

Of Judea's Saviour-king ; 
Tidings of celestial grace 

To the mourning land to bring. 

Thus began the song of praise 
For the dayspring's earliest ray ; 

How should we the anthem raise 
For the gospel's perfect day ! 

BIRTH OF JESUS. 

"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good-will toward men." — Luke ii. 



G 1 



LORY to God ! 

The Lord, the Righteous, hath looked 
down from heaven, 
And great salvation to his people given. 
Glory to God ! 



STEPHEN GREENLEAF BULFINCH. 24 1 

Peace on the earth ! 
Now let the sons of men in harmony 
Accept the blessing sent by God on high. 

Peace on the earth ! 

Good-will to men ! 
For God, the merciful, his Son hath sent, 
To bid the sinner's stubborn heart relent. 

Good-will to men ! 

Messiah comes ! 
Now is the appointed time of prophecy. 
Israel, rejoice ! deliverance draweth nigh. 

Messiah comes ! 

Hail, Prince of Peace ! 
Hail, Virgin Mother ! on thy blameless breast 
The Hope of nations takes his smiling rest. 

Hail, Prince of Peace ! 



CONVERSATION WITH NICODEMUS. 

Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God " — John Hi. 3. 

/^UR life is but a span, 

And full of fears and woes ; 

In tears our earthly course began, 

In tears that course must close. 

But, Lord ! through thee we own 

A new and heavenly birth, 
Kindred to spirits round thy throne, 

Though sojourners of earth. 

How glorious is the hour 

When first our souls awake 
Through thy mysterious Spirit's power, 

And of new life partake ! 
16 



242 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

With richer beauty glows 

The world, before so fair ; 
Her holy light Religion throws, 

Reflected everywhere. 

Amid repentant tears 

We feel sweet peace within ; 
We know the God of mercy hears, 

And pardons every sin. 

The life that thou hast given, 

O Lord ! shall never end ; 
The grave is but the path to heaven, 

And Death is now our friend. 

Born of thy Spirit, Lord, 

Thy Spirit may we share ; 
Deep in our hearts inscribe thy word, 

And place thine image there. 

Teach us to walk aright 

On earth, as serving thee ; 
Then take us to thy realms of light, 

Thine to eternity. 

The following hymn appears, nearly as it is presented here, in two of 
Dr. Bulfinch's earlier volumes. In his "Lays of the Gospel," there are 
inserted three more stanzas which we omit, giving these five, of course, in 
their authorized form. 

THE SAEBATH DAY. 

" I will have mercy, and not sacrifice" — Matthew xii. 7. 

TTAIL to the Sabbath day ! 
The day divinely given, 
When men to God their homage pay, 
And earth draws near to heaven. 

Lord, in thy sacred hour 

Within thy courts we bend, 
And bless thy love, and own thy power, 

Our Father and our Friend ! 



STEPHEN GREENLEAF BULFINCH. 24$ 

But thou art not alone 

In courts by mortals trod ; 
Nor only is the clay thine own, 

When crowds adore their God. 

Thy Temple is the arch 

Of yon unmeasured sky ; 
Thy Sabbath, the stupendous march 

Of grand eternity. 

Lord, may a holier day 

Dawn on thy servants' sight ; 
And grant us in thy courts to pray, 

Of pure, unclouded light. 



JESUS WALKS ON THE SEA. 



And in the fourth watch of the night. Jesus went unto them, walking on the sea. 
Matthew x!v. 25. 



T ORD, in whose might the Saviour trod 

The dark and stormy wave ; 
And trusted in his Father's arm, 
Omnipotent to save ! 

When darkly round our footsteps rise 
The floods and storms of life, 

Send thou thy Spirit down to still 
The elemental strife. 

Strong in our trust, on thee reposed, 

The ocean path we'll dare, 
Though waves around us rage and foam, 

Since thou art with us there. 



244 SOiYGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH, 



THE TESTIMONY OF MIRACLES. 

The works which the Father hath given me to finish, the same works that I do, bear 
witness of me, that the Father hath sent me." — John v. 36. 

TTOLY Son of God most high, 

Clothed in heavenly majesty ! 
Many a miracle and sign, 
In thy Father's name divine, 
Manifested forth thy might 
In the chosen people's sight. 

But, O Saviour ! not alone 
Thus thy glory was made known. 
Kindly human wants relieving, 
Gently with the mourner grieving, 
Far thy matchless power above, 
Stands the witness of thy love. 

Thou, who by the open grave, 
Ere thy voice was raised to save, 
Didst with those fond sisters shed 
Tears above the faithful dead ; 
Even thy word of might appears 
Less resistless than thy tears. 

When upon the fatal tree 
Thou didst writhe in agony, 
Had that pain in triumph ended, 
Hadst thou royally ascended, 
Less sublime had been thy power, 
Than thy patience shone that hour. 

Lord ! it is not ours to gaze 
On thy works of ancient clays ; 
But thy love, unchanged and bright, 
More than all those works of might, 
More than miracle and sign, 
Makes us ever, ever thine. 



STEPHEN GREENLEAF BULFINCH. 245 



THE BARREN FIG-TREE. 

M Behold, these three years I come seeking fruit on this fig-tree, and find none; cut it 
down ; why cumbereth it the ground ? " — Luke xiii. 7. 

"X/'EAR passeth after year, O Lord our God ! 

Thy mercy spares us, and thy might sustains. 
Sometimes we feel the chastening of thy rod, 

Sometimes thy love with gentle voice complains. 
By turns thy sun hath smiled, thy storms have frowned, 
No worthy fruit is ours, vain cumberers of the ground, 

Shouldst thou in anger speak, Lord ! who could stand 

Before thy justice in its dreadful hour ? 
Who could endure the thunders of thy hand, 

What human might arrest thy sovereign power ? 
Spare us, O God, thy mercy we implore ! 
Grant to the barren tree space for one trial more. 

One trial more ! If then we bear no fruit, 

O God of justice ! who shall longer stay 
Thine arm ? Behold the axe is at the root. 

O let Repentance prune our faults away. 
Thy grace, O Lord ! in plenteous showers descend, 
And bid the rescued boughs with clustering honors bend. 



THOUGHTS ON THE SAVIOUR. 

We give this hymn as it originally appeared in " Contemplations of the Saviour." i°32. 
The last stanza is slightly altered in the " Poems," 1834. In the " Lays of the Gospel/' 
the stanza referred to is omitted, five stanzas are added to the first three, and the hymn 
is entitled " Christ's Reproof to Peter." 

r\ SUFFERING Friend of human kind ! 

How, as the fatal hour drew near, 
Came thronging on thy holy mind 
The images of grief and fear ! 

Gethsemane's sad midnight scene, 

The faithless friends, the exulting foes, 

The thorny crown, the insult keen, 

The scourge, the cross, before thee rose. 



246 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Did not thy spirit shrink dismayed, 

As the dark vision o'er it came ; 
And, though in sinless strength arrayed, 

Turn, shuddering, from the death of shame ? 

But onward still, through scorn and dread, 

Didst thou thy Father's call obey, 
Steadfast thy path of duty tread, 

And rise, through death, to endless day. 

"CHILDREN BROUGHT TO CHRIST." 

" Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not : for of such is the king- 
dom of God." — Mark x. 14. 

"X/TES ! there were some among thy hearers, Lord ! 
Who knew thine own blest spirit, and to thee 
Brought their young children in their purity, 
Deeming aright such visits would afford 
Joy to a heart like thine. With gracious word 

Didst thou receive them ; and that hallowed scene 
Hath ever to the Christian parent been 
A fount of deep delight. Thou dost accord 
Thy blessing to our children. We would lead 
To thee these young immortals. Oh, receive 
To thy divine instructions, Saviour blest ! 
And in thy freedom make them free indeed ; 
And if in childhood they are called to leave 
Our arms of love, may they with thee find rest. 



The larger part of the hymn from which the following lines are taken 
is here omitted : — 

THE USE OF PRESENT OPPORTUNITIES. 

" And the Lord commended the unjust steward, because he had done wisely ; for the 
children of this world are in their generation wiser than the children of light." — Luke 
xvi- 8. 

(CHILDREN of light, awake ! 

At Jesus' call arise, 
Forth with your leader to partake 
His toils, his victories. 



STEPHEN GREENLEAF BULFINCH. 2tf 

Ye must not idly stand, 

His sacred voice who hear ; 
Arm for the strife the feeble hand, 

The holy standard rear. 

Naught doth the world afford, 

But toil must be its price ; 
Wilt thou not, servant of the Lord, 

Then toil for paradise ? 

Awake, ye sons of light ! 

Strive till the prize be won ; 
Far spent already is the night ; 

The day comes brightening on. 

INSTITUTION OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 

" This do in remembrance of me." — Luke xxii. 19. 

" 'T^AKE, and eat," the Saviour said, 
As he gave the hallowed bread. 
" This be your perpetual token 
Of my body, torn and broken. 

" As I pour this ruby wine, 
Must be poured this blood of mine. 
By that purple, gushing tide 
Shall the world be purified. 

" Ye whom I so long have loved, 
In my trials faithful proved ; 
Thus when I have left your sight, 
Keep my memory ever bright." 

Time passed on. The Saviour's death 
Sealed the triumph, of his faith ; 
And the chosen of the Lord 
Treasured well his parting word. 

To their souls that feast was dear ; 
His mild voice they seemed to hear ; 
As they shared the bread and wine, 
Still they saw his form divine. 



248 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Many a century hath fled 

Since they slumbered with the dead ; 

But as we thy word fulfil, 

Jesus ! we behold thee still. 

Still in sacramental sign 
As we pour the hallowed wine, 
Our enraptured spirits gaze 
On that scene of ancient days. 

Lo ! once more the board is crowned ; 
The disciples gather round ; 
See ! their hearts are sunk in woe ; 
Hark ! what words from Jesus flow ! 

Often may our hearts unite 
In this blest communion-rite, 
Pledge of Christian love and faith, 
Emblem of the Saviour's death. 



In the "Lays of the Gospel," the following hymn appears, with two 
additional stanzas after the fourth, and with the fifth slightly changed. 
We give it as it was originally published in the writer's earlier volumes, 
and as it has generally been printed in the Church Collections. 



MEDITATION. 

" And they said one to another, Did not our heart burn within us while he talked 
with us by the way, and while he opened to us the Scriptures?" — Luke xxiv. 32- 

TLTATH not thy heart within thee burned 

At evening's calm and holy hour, 
As if its inmost depths discerned 
The presence of a loftier power ? 

Hast thou not heard, 'mid forest-glades, 

While ancient rivers murmured by, 
A voice from forth the eternal shades, 

That spake a present Deity ? 



STEPHEN GREENLEAF BULFINCH. 241 

And as, upon the sacred page, 

Thine eye in rapt attention turned 
O'er records of a holier age, 

Hath not thy heart within thee burned ? 

It was the voice of God, that spake 

In silence to thy silent heart ; 
And bade each worthier thought awake, 

And every dream of earth depart. 

Voice of our God, O, yet be near ! 

In low, sweet accents whisper peace ; 
Direct us on our pathway here, 

Then bid in heaven our wanderings cease. 



The following hymn is from the volume entitled "Communion 
Thoughts," second edition, 1852 : — 



THE COMMUNION OF SAINTS. 

"\T 7E gather to the sacred board, 
Perchance a scanty band ; 
But with us in sublime accord 
What mighty armies stand ! 

In creed and rite howe'er apart, 

One Saviour still we own, 
And pour the worship of the heart 

Before our Father's throne. 

A thousand spires o'er hill and vale 
Point to the same blue heaven ; 

A thousand voices tell the tale 
Of grace through Jesus given. 

High choirs, in Europe's ancient fanes, 
Praise Him for man who died ; 

And o'er our boundless Western plains 
His name is glorified. 



250 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH.. 

Around his tomb, on Salem's height, 
Greek and Armenian bend ; 

And through all Lapland's months of night, 
The peasant's hymns ascend. 

Are we not brethren ? Saviour dear ! 

Then may we walk in love, 
Joint subjects of thy kingdom here, 

Joint heirs of bliss above ! 



AKABAH* 

To the Memory of Rev. William P. Lunt, D.D. 

"VX7HERE the dark sea of Egypt throws 

Its last spray o'er Arabia's sands, 
Where in tall groups the date-palm grows, 
A tower of other ages stands. 

The warriors of the crescent there 

Watch, from the mountain to the plain, 

The caravan's long line appear 

In stately march to Mecca's fane, — 

Or, on that long untravelled sea, 
With fear and powerless envy mark 

The cross, Britannia's blazonry, 

Float o'er the intruding western bark. 

Wild scene of death was thine, O friend ! 

The dark-browed sons of Ishmael nigh ; 
No dear familiar face to bend 

In sorrow o'er thy closing eye. 

* Akabah, where Dr. Lunt died, is at the extremity of the eastern gulf of the Red 
Sea, a military post on the route of the caravans from Egypt to Mecca. It is 
described by Burckhardt, and others, as consisting principally of a castle, built in 
the sixteenth century, and surrounded by date-palms. It is near the site of the 
ancient cities of Elath and Ezion-Geber, at the latter of which the ships of Jehosh- 
aphat were destroyed. — i Kings xxii. 48. 



STEPHEN GREENLEAF BULFINCH. 25 1 

Thy mind, in many a dreamy hour, 

Had roved in Israel's far-off land ; 
Thy Christian heart had craved the power, 

Where thy Redeemer stood, to stand. 

It might not be. Where broken lay 
The ships, a Hebrew monarch's pride, 

A nobler vessel far than they 

Was broken when our pilgrim died. 

Thy deep, clear voice is heard no more ; 

We see no more thy calm, dark eye. 
Yon stately fane, where crowds adore, 

Echoes a mourning people's sigh. 

And love that might have checked the flow 

Of grief, to view thy parting smile, 
In widowed and in orphaned woe 

Shall weep, — yet heavenward look the while. 

With theirs the tears of age shall blend, 
Submission to Heaven's high decree ; 

And many a sympathizing friend 
Shall mourn departed worth in thee. 

Rest thou in peace ! The hallowed hill 

Of Zion 'twas not thine to climb, 
Nor feel thy poet-pulses thrill 

On Tabor's mountain height sublime. 

But, for those types denied to thee, 

The heavenly Canaan is thine own ; 
And from the desert and the sea 

Thou risest to thy Saviour's throne ! 



Dorchester, June i, 1857. 



252 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

The following lines, written by Dr. Bulfinch a few brief months before 
his death, were addressed to Rev. Dr. William Newell, of Cambridge, 
and were occasioned by the death (July 8, 1870) of a beloved daughter 
of the latter, Mrs. Richard Stone, in whose funeral services the father 
participated. 

LINES TO REV. DR. NEWELL. 

" Religion of the cross! alone 'tis thine 
In one bright wreath to twine 
The double palms of meekness and of might." 

Schiller. 

T17HY should such sorrow come, I asked, to thee, 

O gentle friend ? Need'st thou the chastening rod, 
Who from bright youth, through pure maturity, 
To lovely age, hast ever walked with God ? 
But not by thee is this affliction borne 
For thine own sake ; thou teachest us to bear : 
For when I saw thee stand so calmly there, 
With words of comfort unto all that mourn, 
I saw what strength with meekness may combine, 
And my own heart, by late bereavement * tried, 
Drank in the sweet submissiveness of thine, 
And felt new strength to bear, from thine supplied. 
To our old friendship a new tie is given ; 
We, friends on earth, — our daughters, friends in heaven. 

Cambridge, July 11, 1870. 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 

(1809.) 

Oliver Wendell Holmes, M.D., was born at Cambridge, Mass., 
August 29, 1809. His father was Rev. Abiel Holmes, D.D., a distin- 
guished clergyman of that town, and the author of "Annals of America " 
and various other works. His mother was Sarah, daughter of Hon. 
Oliver Wendell, of Boston. The son received his early education at 
Phillips Academy, Exeter, N.H., and graduated at Harvard College in 
1829, in the same class with Benjamin R. Curtis, Benjamin Peirce, George 
T. Bigelow, James Freeman Clarke, William Henry Charming, Chandler 

* Dr. Bulfinch's youngest daughter, Annie, died Sept. 19, 1863, aged 23. 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 253 

Robbins, and other now noted men. He began to study law, but aban- 
doned that profession for the study of medicine. For the more success- 
ful prosecution of the latter, he went abroad in 1832, spending several 
years in attendance on the hospitals of Paris and other cities. He re- 
ceived the degree of M.D. in 1836, after his return; and in 1838 was 
elected Professor of Anatomy and Physiology in Dartmouth College. In 
1847 he was made Professor in the same department in Harvard College, 
succeeding Dr. Warren. This place he still occupies, having long ago 
abandoned the general practice of his profession. 

He began to attract attention as a poet even during his college life, 
when he contributed to the "Collegian," a periodical conducted by the 
undergraduates. Other pieces were published in " Illustrations of the 
Athenaeum Gallery of Paintings," in 1831, and in the " Harbinger," a May 
gift, in 1833. His "Poetry, a Metrical Essay," was read before the Phi 
Beta Kappa Society in 1836; "Terpsichore," at a dinner of the same 
society in 1843; and "Urania, a Rhymed Lesson," was pronounced be- 
fore the Mercantile Library Association, in Boston, in 1846. In 1850 he 
delivered his poem, "Astraea," before the Yale Chapter of the Phi Beta 
Kappa. The first collected edition of his poems appeared from the 
press in 1836. Enlarged editions have since appeared from time to time, 
and have been republished in England. 

In connection with his profession, he has published various works : in 
1838, "Boylston Prize Dissertations;" in 1839, in conjunction with Dr. 
James Bigelow, an edition of Hall's " Theory and Practice of Medicine ; " 
in 1842, "Lectures on Homoeopathy, and its Kindred Delusions ;" in 
1848, a "Report of Medical Literature," in the " Transactions of the 
National Medical Society ; " and also a pamphlet on "Puerperal Fever." 

In 1857 he commenced a series of articles for the "Atlantic Monthly," 
entitled " The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table," which were afterward 
published in a volume. These were followed by others, also in the 
Atlantic, "The Professor at the Breakfast-Table," and these, also, by 
"The Poet at the Breakfast-Table," both of which have been repub- 
lished like the first, and are too well known and much admired to need 
comment here. The last of these works appeared in a volume in 1872. 
His " Elsie Venner " appeared in 1861, and his " Guardian Angel " in T867. 

Dr. Holmes delivered, before the Phi Beta Kappa Society, Cambridge, 
June 29, 1870, an essay on "Mechanism in Thought and Morals," which 
was given to the press in 187 1. He has frequently contributed to vari- 
ous medical and literary periodicals, and has also distinguished himself 
as a popular lecturer. "As a writer of songs and lyrics," says the 
sketch in Appleton's Cyclopaedia, to which, as well as to the notice in 
Griswold's "Poets of America," we are indebted for much of this bio- 
graphical account, "Dr. Holmes stands in the front rank." And Gris- 
wold says : " Dr. Holmes is a poet of art and humor and genial sentiment, 
with a style remarkable for its purity, terseness, and point, and for an 
exquisite finish and grace." His well-known hymns, it is enough to say, 
are worthy of the author of "The Chambered Nautilus." 



254 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

A BIRTHDAY TRIBUTE 
To James Freeman Clarke. 

"VX7HO is the shepherd sent to lead, 

Through pastures green, the Master's sheep ? 
What guileless " Israelite indeed " 

The folded flock may watch and keep ? 

He who with manliest spirit joins 
The heart of gentlest human mould, 

With burning light and girded loins, 
To guide the flock, or watch the fold ; 

True to all truth the world denies, 
Not tongue-tied for its gilded sin ; 

Not always right in all men's eyes, 
But faithful to the light within ; 

Who asks no meed of earthly fame, 
Who knows no earthly master's call, 

Who hopes for man through guilt and shame, 
Still answering, " God is over all ; " 

Who makes another's grief his own, 
Whose smile lends joy a double cheer : 

Where lives the saint, if such be known ? 
Speak softly, — such an one is here ! 

O faithful shepherd ! thou hast borne 

The heat and burden of the day ; 
Yet, o'er thee, bright with beams unshorn, 

The sun still shows thine onward way. 

To thee our fragrant love we bring, 
In buds that April half displays, — 

Sweet first-born angels of the spring, 
Caught in their opening hymn of praise 

What though our faltering accents fail, 
Our captives know their message well, 

Our words unbreathed their lips exhale, 
And sigh more love than ours can tell. 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 255 



THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS. 

HPHIS is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, 

Sails the unshadowed main, — 

The adventurous bark that flings 
On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings 
In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings, 

And coral reefs lie bare, 
Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming 
hair. 

Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl ; 

Wrecked is the ship of pearl ! 

And every chambered cell, 
Where its dim, dreaming life was wont to dwell, 
As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell, 

Before thee lies revealed, — 
Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed ! 

Year after year beheld the silent toil 

That spread his lustrous coil ; 

Still, as the spiral grew, 
He left the past year's dwelling for the new, 
Stole with soft step its shining archway through, 

Built up its idle door, 
Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no 
more. 

Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, 

Child of the wandering sea, 

Cast from her lap, forlorn ! 
From thy dead lips a clearer note is born 
Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn ! 

While on mine ear it rings, 
Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that 
sings : — 



256 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, 

As the swift seasons roll ! 

Leave thy low-vaulted past ! 
Let each new temple, nobler than the last, 
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast ; 

Till thou at length art free, 
Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea ! 



THE PROMISE. 

1VTOT charity we ask, 

Nor yet thy gift refuse ; 
Please thy light fancy with the easy task, 
Only to look and choose. 

The little-heeded toy 
That wins thy treasured gold 
May be the dearest memory, holiest joy, 
Of coming years untold. 

Heaven rains on every heart, 
But there its showers divide, 
The drops of mercy choosing as they part 
The dark or glowing side. 

One kindly deed may turn 
The fountain of thy soul 
To love's sweet day-star, that shall o'er thee burn 
Long as its currents roll ! 

The pleasures thou hast planned, — 
Where shall their memory be 
When the white angel with the freezing hand 
Shall sit and watch by thee ? 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 2$? 

Living, thou dost not live, 
If mercy's spring run dry ; 
What Heaven has lent thee wilt thou freely give, 
Dying, thou shalt not die ! 

He promised even so ! 
To thee His lips repeat, — 
Behold, the tears that soothed thy sister's woe 
Have washed thy Master's feet ! 



HYMN OF TRUST. 

f~\ LOVE Divine, that stooped to share 

Our sharpest pang, our bitterest tear, 
On Thee we cast each earth-born care, 
We smile at pain while Thou art near ! 

Though long the weary way we tread, 
And sorrow crown each lingering year, 

No path we shun, no darkness dread, 

Our hearts still whispering, Thou art near ! 

When drooping pleasure turns to grief, 
And trembling faith is changed to fear, 

The murmuring wind, the quivering leaf, 
Shall softly tell us, Thou art near ! 

On Thee we fling our burdening woe, 

O Love Divine, forever dear, 
Content to suffer while we know, 

Living and dying, Thou art near ! 



A SUN-DAY HYMN. 

T ORD of all being ! throned afar, 

Thy glory flames from sun and star ; 
Centre and soul of every sphere, 
Yet to each loving heart how near ! 
17 



258 SOA r GS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Sun of our life, thy quickening ray 
Sheds on our path the glow of clay ; 
Star of our hope, thy softened light 
Cheers the long watches of the night. 

Our midnight is thy smile withdrawn ; 
Our noontide is thy gracious dawn ; 
Our rainbow arch thy mercy's sign ; 
All, save the clouds of sin, are thine ! 

Lord of all life, below, above, 

Whose light is truth, whose warmth is love, 

Before thy ever-blazing throne 

We ask no lustre of our own. 

Grant us thy truth to make us free, 
And kindling hearts that burn for thee, 
Till all thy living altars claim 
One holy light, one heavenly flame ! 



THE LAST LOOK. 

"DEHOLD — not him we knew! 

This was the prison which his soul looked 
through, 
Tender, and brave, and true. 

His voice no more is heard ; 
And his dead name — that dear familiar word — 
Lies on our lips unstirred. 

He spake with poet's tongue ; 
Living, for him the minstrel's lyre was strung : 
He shall not die unsung ! 

Grief tried his love, and pain ; 
And the long bondage of his martyr-chain 
Vexed his sweet soul, — in vain ! 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 259 

It felt life's surges break ; 
As, girt with stormy seas, his island lake, 
Smiling while tempests wake. 

How can we sorrow more ? 
Grieve not for him whose heart had gone before 
To that untrodden shore ! 

Lo, through its leafy screen, 
A gleam of sunlight on a ring of green, 
Untrodden, half unseen ! 

Here let his body rest, 
Where the calm shadows that his soul loved best 
May slide above his breast. 

Smooth his uncurtained bed ; 
And if some natural tears are softly shed, 
It is not for the dead. 

Fold the green turf aright 
For the long hours before the morning's light, 
And say the last Good-night ! 

And plant a clear white stone 
Close by those mounds which held his loved, his own, — 
Lonely, but not alone. 

Here let him sleeping lie, 
Till Heaven's bright watchers slumber in the sky, 
And Death himself shall die ! 



INTERNATIONAL ODE. 
Our Fathers' Land. 

Sung in unison by twelve hundred children of the public schools, at the visit of the 
Prince of Wales to Boston, Oct. 18, i860. Air, " God save the Queen." 



G 



OD bless our Fathers' Land ! 
Keep her in heart and hand 
One .with our own ! 



260 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

From all her foes defend, 
Be her brave People's Friend, 
On all her realms descend, 
Protect her Throne ! 

Father, with loving care 

Guard Thou her kingdom's Heir, 

Guide all his ways : 
Thine arm his shelter be, 
From him by land and sea 
Bid storm and danger flee, 

Prolong his days. 

Lord, let War's tempest cease, 
Fold the whole Earth in peace 

Under Thy wings ! 
Make all Thy nations one, 
All hearts beneath the sun, 
Till Thou shalt reign alone, 

Great King of kings. 



ARMY HYMN. 

r\ LORD of Hosts ! Almighty King ! 
^^^ Behold the sacrifice we bring ! 
To every arm Thy strength impart, 
Thy spirit shed through every heart. 

Wake in our breasts the living fires, 
The holy faith that warmed our sires ; 
Thy hand hath made our Nation free : 
To die for her is serving Thee. 

Be Thou a pillared flame to show 
The midnight snare, the silent foe ; 
And when the battle thunders loud, 
Still guide us in its moving cloud. 



MARY WHITWELL HALE. 261 

God of all Nations ! Sovereign Lord ! 
In Thy dread name we draw the sword ; 
We lift the starry flag on high 
That fills with light our stormy sky. 

From treason's rent, from murder's stain, 
Guard Thou its folds till Peace shall reign, — 
Till fort and field, till shore and sea, 
Join our loud anthem, Praise to Thee ! 



MARY WHITWELL HALE. 

(1810-1862.) 

Mary W. Hale was born in Boston, Mass., Jan. 29, 1810. In our 
inquiries concerning the story of this gifted songstress, we learned that her 
history was well known to Rev. Andrew Bigelow, D.D., of that city ; and 
our application to him for some particulars in regard to her life led to 
quite an extended sketch of her by his son Timothy Bigelow, Esq., which 
we sincerely hope, from considerations of justice to her memory and 
from the deeply interesting manner in which the writer has treated his 
subject, may be soon given to one of our magazines. Having carefully 
prepared his account, from what was known to himself and his venerable 
father, and from what he was able to gather from her surviving brother, 
he kindly placed his manuscript into our hands to make use of such 
parts of it as we might see fit. We take from it the following facts, 
trusting that the whole narrative may ere long see the light. 

Miss Hale's father was Eliphalet Hale, of Boston, an intelligent and 
high-minded merchant of that city. Her mother was Abigail, daughter 
of Colonel Jonathan Waters, himself an old Bostonian. At the time of her 
birth the parents resided in Hollis Street, and were parishioners of Dr. 
Kirkland, who baptized her, and whom she afterwards commemorated in 
verse. She attended the public schools, and was apt, quick, and faithful 
in her studies. In 1822 the family removed to Jamaica Plain, and in 
1824 returned to Boston, where, at the Franklin Grammar School, she 
graduated in 1825. For the next three years she was connected, as a 
pupil, with a Young Ladies' Academy in Phillips Place, maintaining a 
very high rank during the entire course, and winning at the close a first 
prize for English composition, and most flattering encomiums from her 
instructor, Ebenezer Bailey. She then went to visit her friends in Keene, 
N.H., where she consented to fill a vacancy as a teacher in one of the 



262 SOJVGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

town schools. Her services gave much satisfaction, but continued for 
only a year in consequence of the sickness and death of her mother. 
Soon after this painful affliction, she assisted Mr. Bailey for a year in 
his work at the Phillips Place Academy, and was then herself taken sick 
and brought very near the grave. At this time she wrote a very solemn 
vow of consecration to the will and service of God, and was faithful to 
it through all her subsequent life. On her recovery, she returned to her 
labors at Phillips Place, then taught at Wellfieet on the Cape, and after 
spending a short time at Newton went to Taunton, where she assumed 
in December, 1833, the duties of Preceptress in the Bristol Academy. 
Here she had great success in her profession, and gained a host of friends 
among all circles and sects. Owing to certain unjust treatment which 
she received from the Principal of the institution, she surrendered her 
position and opened a private school in the same town. Leaving Taun- 
ton in 1842, she once more went to Keene, where she established and for 
many years taught another school, which under her care enjoyed a high 
and enviable reputation. Here her father died, Sept. 26, 1852 ; and here 
she herself passed to her rest, Nov. 17, 1862, her remains being borne to 
Mount Auburn for burial. 

Miss Hale, in addition to her many arduous professional labors, 
devoted herself zealously to works of practical benevolence, and was 
an earnest and exemplary member of the Christian Church. She first 
entered into this last-mentioned relation under the guidance of her ex- 
cellent and beloved pastor at Taunton, Rev. Andrew Bigelow, D.D., 
who, in all her toils, successes, and trials, was her ardent and unwaver- 
ing friend. She was a teacher in his Sunday school, a constant and 
efficient helper in all the varied interests of his society, a frequent and 
ever-welcome visitor in his family, and an angel of love and light to 
the poor and the desolate around her. This philanthropic and pious 
zeal she carried with her to Keene, making her influence felt in Rev. 
W. O. White's Church in that place, as she had done in Dr. Bigelow's at 
Taunton ; and then, when the war broke out, exciting the admiration of 
all by her heroic and exhausting labors as secretary of the Cheshire 
County Soldier's Aid Society, and by the inspiring hymns and odes 
which, as some of the last offerings of her life, she* laid upon the altars of 
country and humanity. 

While yet a young lady, she contributed to the " Boston Evening 
Gazette " a variety of prose sketches, which were oftentimes widely 
copied and heartily commended. But she was destined to excel even 
more in writing verses. Her hymns, entitled "Home" and "Music," 
written for a juvenile concert at the Unitarian Church, in Taunton, 
April, 1834, first brought her into notice as a poetess ; and her effusions 
were from that time much sought after for many public occasions, and 
were gladly welcomed to the columns of the papers. Not a few of her 
best pieces appeared in the "Christian Register," under the initials 
Y. L. E. In 1840 a volume of her " Poems " was published in Boston 



MARY WHITWELL if ALE. 263 

by William D. Ticknor. These productions of her genius are nearly all 
of a religious character, being penetrated and sanctified by that deep 
spirit of faith, trust, and love which so greatly distinguished her. Some 
of them seem to us of remarkable merit, while scarcely any of them are 
of inferior worth. They all together evidence a mind of uncommon 
natural endowments and of fine and thorough culture, as well as a heart 
consecrated to the highest ends of life and enriched by the best fruits 
of the Christian experience. The few of her sacred songs which have 
passed into our hymn-books were first introduced into the Cheshire 
Collection, one or more of whose compilers knew her and her fitness 
for a place in such a volume. From a copy of her "Poems," now long 
out of print, we select for our readers the following specimens. 



HOME. 



These lines are one of Miss Hale's earliest pieces. They were written for a juvenile 
concert at Taunton, as we have stated in the sketch. 



T1TOME ! Home ! As we kneel at thy time-hallowed shrine, 

Our hearts' purest incense for aye shall be thine ; 
For our early-breathed vows, and our childhood's young 

prayer, 
And our hearts' dearest wishes are all centred there. 

A light from that altar around us is shed, 

To guide us in safety, wherever we tread ; 

Like the moon's gentle lustre, it beams on the eye, 

Shining purest and brightest when danger is nigh. 

Oh ! never, till life's golden sunlight shall set, 

Can we the loved home of our childhood forget, 

But faithful remembrance to rapture shall swell, 

As it rests on the spot where our cherished ones dwell. 

And thus may the magic which breathes round our home 
Still guide, as 'mid life's varied pathway we roam, 
Till we reach the bright shore where the freed soul may rest, 
The land of the faithful, the home of the blest. 



264 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



UNIVERSAL ADORATION. 

A S up to heaven our eyes we raise, 

And on its shining wonders gaze, 
Each kindling page of starry light 
Bears record of thy boundless might. 

We look upon thy footstool, Earth, 
Radiant as at Creation's birth. 
Our Maker's impress there we see ; 
Its ceaseless homage swells to thee. 

The ocean's solemn, mighty roar 
Calls man its Author to adore ; 
And while its grandeur meets the eye, 
To seek thy gracious throne on high. 

The voice of Spring, the Autumn's glow, 
The Summer's sun, the Winter's snow, 
Have each a pure and thrilling tone, 
To call our thoughts to thee alone. 

And though to man it be not given 
To scan the " mysteries of Heaven," 
Still we thy favor may implore, 
Our hearts may bless, our souls adore. 



GOD NIGH TO THE PENITENT. 

The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart, and saveth such as be of a 
contrite spirit." 

1VTIGH, in that hour of secret grief, 
When anguish bows the head, 
To whisper pardon and relief, 
And healing oil to shed. 

Nigh in the covenant of his love, 

Traced on the sacred page, 
Which points us to our home above, — 

Our heavenly heritage. 



MARY WHIT WELL HALE. 26$ 

A broken heart, — its low-breathed sighs, 

Its scarcely uttered prayer, 
Shall to a Fatherls ear arise, 

And meet with mercy there. 

And though full oft our wandering feet 
Guilt's thorn-strowed path have trod, 

Jesus the contrite heart shall meet, 
And turn it to its God. 

New glory from this throne of light 

Shall beam its cheering ray ; 
For oft the deepest shade of night 

Heralds the brightest day. 



"LIFE HAS NO CHARM FOR ME.' 



H 



AS life no charm for thee ? 
Are there no visions of the joyous past, 
Like holy spells around thy pathway cast ? 

Canst thou no blessings see 
To cheer thee in thy loneliness of heart, 
And to thy soul their gracious aid impart ? 

Oh ! art thou all unblest ? 
Come there no glorious hopes thy heart to cheer ? 
Is there no hand to wipe the starting tear ? 

No thought of that calm rest, 
Which the meek child of God alone may share, 
Where comes no withering grief, no anxious care ? 

Where is the soul's deep love, 
Resting on God in pure, unchanging trust ? 
Where is that faith which, from the earth and dust, 

Can point the eye above, 
To purer, nobler mansions in the sky, 
Where its freed energies can never die ? 



266 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Oh ! let thy soul rejoice ; 
Life has a charm, though dark to thee it seem. 
What though may blighted be thy heart's bright dream, 

There is a gentle voice, 
Bidding thy heart, amid this deep despair, 
On God repose the burden of its care. 

And Death shall bring no gloom : 
It is the pathway which thy soul must tread, 
As to thy Father's mansions thou art led. 

Beyond the silent tomb, 
When to that heaven thy spirit wings its flight, 
Thy God shall be thine everlasting Light. 



COMMUNION HYMN. 

HTHE hallowed morn returns again, 

Faith's gazing eye to greet. 
Oh, let. not sin our spirits stain, 

As round the board we meet ; 
But may our hearts, from earth set free, 
Aspire, Eternal One, to thee ! 

God ! let us bow in fervent prayer 

Around thy sacred throne ; 
And, as we cast on thee our care, 

Worship thy name alone : 
And let remembered love impart 
A glow of heaven to every heart. 

Here may we gather strength and might, 

Life's trial way to tread ; 
And may thy Spirit's guiding light, 

Faith's beaming ray, be shed : 
So may the holier path be pressed, 
Which leads to thee, and heaven's sweet rest. 



MARY WHITWELL HALE. 267 



ASPIRATION. 

A UTHOR of all my blessings here, 

Whose word can stay the bitter tear ! 
Source of my life, my Strength, my All ! 
On thy dread name my voice would call. 

Endued with virtue's high desires, 
The deathless soul to heaven aspires ; 
Above the scenes of earth it soars, 
And there its glorious King adores. 

Oh, let not sin my spirit stain ; 
Let me not read thy word in vain ; 
Let me from Error's touch be free, 
And fix my steadfast heart on thee. 

Earth, with thy glittering dust, away ! 

Not for thy dazzling gifts I pray j 

But may the gem alone be given, 

Whose brightness lights my path to heaven. 



SUNDAY SCHOOL FESTIVAL, 1837. 

"CWTHER ! when gathered round thy throne, 

Thy name to bless, thy love to win, 
Deign with our contrite souls to meet, 
Thus suppliant at thy mercy-seat. 

Thanks for the gospel of our Lord ; 
What strength divine its words afford ! 
Peace when the angry storm-clouds lower, 
And sweeter joy in hope's bright hour. 

Bless, Father ! bless this faithful band, 
Who here around thine altar stand ; 
Make each young heart thy favored shrine, 
And touch it with thy fire divine. 



268 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

And he, thy watchman on this tower, 

Gird him with grace, and strength, and power ; 

His heart sustain, his spirit cheer, 

And bless him with thy presence here. 

Guide those who wait, with patient love, 
To point each infant eye above ; 
To them a priceless meed be given, — 
Thy peace on earth, thy smile in heaven. 

Press on, ye heralds of his word ! 
Follow in faith your risen Lord ! 
Press on, untiring, till your eye 
Discern the land of promise nigh ! 

So when our feet its shores shall tread, 
By God our Father gently led, 
There may we all the chorus raise 
Of fervent prayer and grateful praise. 



EVENING HYMN. 

"LEATHER ! before I close mine eyes, 

To thee my grateful thoughts would rise ; 
For all the mercies of the day 
My heart would now its tribute pay. 

Be thou my theme of daily praise, 
Thou great and good in all thy ways ; 
And daily let me seek in prayer 
Thy watchful love, thy guardian care. 

In weakness here I bend to thee ; 
Wilt thou my strength in weakness be ? 
In error here my footsteps roam ; 
Oh, lead me to my heavenly home ! 

Thy peace as holy incense shed 
O'er my defenceless, sleeping head ; 
And through the dangers of the night 
Protect me safe till morning light. 



MARY WHITWELL HALE. 269 

In safety guide my wandering feet, 
Till I thyself in glory meet : 
Then take me to thy heavenly rest, 
To be with thee for ever blest. 

There shall no night of error be ; 
No sin divide thy smile from me : 
But perfect, pure, unchanging day 
Beam on the soul its glowing ray. 



HYMN. 

For the consecration of Mt. Pleasant Cemetery, Taunton, Sept. 4, 1835. 

A ROUND thy forest shrine, 
Eternal God ! we bend, 
While to yon dome of thine 

Faith's breathing tones ascend, — 
To spread abroad, From Nature's fane, 

The choral strain, To Nature's God. 

The whispering wind around, 

The glorious sky above, 
The trees' sweet, murmuring sound, — 
All, all proclaim thy love. 
A thrilling voice, Breathed on the ear, 

Checks every fear, Bids man rejoice. 

Where Nature's hues of bloom 

In summer beauty reign, 
Shall sadness, doubt, and gloom 
Breathe here their mournful strain ? 
Let songs of praise To God be given, 

And high to heaven Joy's chorus raise. 



To Faith, to Hope, to Love 

This spot we consecrate, 
While, raised to thee above, 
Our hearts thy blessing wait. 
To thee we pray, Our Father, God ; 

Through him who trod Death's silent way. 



2;o SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Our souls shall never fear 

The path he blest to tread ; 
Calmly we'll enter here 
The chambers of the dead. 
Here shall we sleep, And fear no ill, 
While angels still Their vigils keep. 

To thee, Great King of kings ! 

When life's short dream is o'er, 
On Hope's aspiring wings 
Oh, may our spirits soar, 
And swell on high That strain to Thee 

Whose melody Shall never die. 

THE PEACE OF GOD * 

" Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee. : 

INTERNAL Father, throned above ! 

Fountain of life and light and love ! 
To thee our suppliant voice we raise ; 
To thee we turn our earnest gaze. 

Our hearts shall know no dark dismay, 
Though clouds are gathering o'er our way ; 
And though the angry tempest roar, 
Our souls thy wisdom shall adore. 

Silent, submissive still to thee, 
Grant us, Eternal One, to be ; 
And still that perfect peace impart, 
Thy blessing to the trusting heart. 

And when life's checkered scene is past, 
Joy's summer smile, grief's wintry blast, 
And we the eternal shore shall tread, 
By thee, our Father, gently led, — 

Still in the mansions of the blest 
Our hearts' deep trust on thee shall rest ; 
And there the perfect peace of heaven, 
That holy heritage, be given. 

* Christian Register, Nov. 7, 1835. 



MARY WHITWELL HALE. 2?I 



"UPON WHOM DOTH NOT HIS LIGHT ARISE? 

TS there a secret, hidden place, 

How lone soever it may be, 
In which Faith's vision may not trace 
The light of God's divinity ? 

Thou poor afflicted one, whose eye, 
Dim with the frequent-falling tear, 

Can see no friendly beacon nigh, 

Thy spirit's struggling grief to cheer, — 

Lift up thine eye ! A splendor streams 
All glorious from God's throne of light ; 

Full on the bursting eye it beams, 

And turns to day grief's darkest night. 

Thou weary one ! who fain wouldst lay 

The burdens of thy labor down, 
To share the only cloudless day, 

And win the only fadeless crown, — 

Not to the dreams of dark despair 
Be all thy weary moments given ; 

Breathe forth thy soul in grateful prayer, 
And patient wait the light from heaven. 

Darkness and clouds are o'er the way, 
That leads us to our heavenly rest ; 

But faith can view the beaming ray, 
That gilds the regions of the blest. 

Turn to that rest thy tearful eye, 

And God's own hand thy steps shall guide, 

Till thou shalt see his mansions nigh, 
And stand his glorious throne beside. 



272 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



INVOCATION. 

"RATHER, enthroned above ! 

Thou Source of life and love ! 
On thine Eternal Name my voice would call. 

Hear me as thus I pray, 

And let a heavenly ray, 
Gently as night-dews, on my spirit fall. 

While suppliant thus I kneel, 

Let me thy presence feel, 
In the bright noontide as the evening shade ; 

When, in the hour of prayer, 

I bring to thee my care, 
May my heart's confidence on thee be stayed. 

Spare thou the loved and dear, 

Life's trial way to cheer ; 
Long may their faithful, changeless love be given ; 

And, 'mid my lonely grief, 

Grant me the sweet relief, 
The trust to meet those cherished ones in heaven. 

And to my fainting heart 

Wilt thou thine aid impart ? 
In weakness, Mighty One ! I bend to thee. 

When the fierce storm is nigh, 

And raised to thee my eye, 
Wilt thou my strength in earthly weakness be ? 

When the dark hour has passed, 

Of earthly woe the last, 
And the soul quits its prison house of clay, — ■ 

Thou ! to whom Death must bow, 

Great King of kings ! wilt thou 
Receive my spirit to eternal day ? 



MARY WH1TWELL HALE. 273 



THE TRUE SOURCE OF STRENGTH. 

" Strength is born 
In the deep stillness of long-suffering hearts, 
Not amid joy." Mrs. Hemans. 

"TVTOT amid pleasure's giddy throng, 

Where sweetly breathes the siren song, 
Gathers the spirit strength to bear 
Its deepest, heaviest weight of care. 

Not when the flashing eye beams bright 
With hope's sweet ray and memory's light ; 
Not where the wreath of rose-hued flowers 
We weave to deck life's sunniest hours. 

The siren strain, the gilded hall, 
Where light as air gay footsteps fall, — 
Not these that blessed gift bestow, 
Strength to sustain life's deepest wee. 

But they above whose grief-bowed head 
No herald light of day is shed, — 
Whose hearts no ark of rest discern, 
Whither the fluttering dove may turn, — 

They who from childhood's earliest day 
Have seen each brilliant hope decay, — 
These, these alone the fountains know, 
Whence streams of blessed healing flow. 

Yes ! fortune's frown, the altered gaze 
Of those who shared our brightest days, 
The weary day, the anxious night 
Scarce gloomier e'en than morning light, — 

Like gentlest messengers they come 
To guide us to our unseen home, 
Strength from their mingling might is given 
To tread life's pilgrim path to heaven. 

18 



274 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Thanks for the sunlight of our lot ; 
Be not its Gracious Fount forgot : 
Yet shall our holiest praise arise, 
When He withdraws it from our eyes. 



ALL THY WORKS SHALL PRAISE THEE, AND THY 
SAINTS SHALL BLESS THEE." 

/^\NE universal strain of praise 

Creation to its God shall raise ; 
Its matin song, its vesper tone, 
Swell ceaseless to its Maker's throne. 

Morn wakes for him its radiant beam, 
Him starry midnight makes its theme, 
Their anthem strains his children bring, 
While prayer lifts up its sacred wing. 

Yet notes more holy shall ascend, 
With angel harmony to blend : 
Praise in his earthly courts is given ; 
Praise tunes the harps of saints in heaven. 

Eternal Father ! King divine ! 
Grant we may meet around thy shrine, 
And wake to thee that strain on high, 
Whose melody shall never die. 



LINES WRITTEN AFTER AN ORDINATION. 

TF ever angel's wing 

Droop from its home of purity and bliss, 
Pardon, salvation, blessedness to bring, 

It is in hours like this. 

The holy rite is done ; 
The solemn, consecrating prayer is said. 
Servant of God, and herald of his Son ! 

Peace be upon thy head. 



MARY WHITWELL HALE. 27$ 

Fast to thy spirit gird 
The shield of faith to guard in danger's hour. 
Thy helmet be Salvation, and His word 

Thy sword of conquering power. 

Even as a daily dress, 
Truth's radiant robe of grace and glory wear. 
The shining breastplate of his righteousness 

Like Christ's true soldier bear. 

Watchman on Zion's hill ! 
Set the glad word of mercy to proclaim, 
Make known to men thy Father's gracious wh\ 

And magnify his name. 

So when the Master's voice 
Shall summon thee in glory to appear, 
As peasant's heart at eventide, rejoice 

The low-breathed call to hear. 

And as his weary feet 
Turn fondly to his home at close of day, 
So may thy heart with holy rapture beat, 

To tread death's heavenward way. 

God keep thy soul in love, 
Strong through the conquering energy of prayer, 
Till gathered to his ministry above, 

Thy Saviour greets thee there. 



THE EARLY DEAD. 



"PLOWERS for the early dead ! 

The rose, the lily, and the violet bring, 
Around their quiet resting-place to shed, — 
A precious offering. 



276 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Joy for the early dead ! 
Joy for the meed of perfect rapture given ! 
Earth's phantom flash before that beam has fled, 

Full-orbed and bright, of heaven. 

Smiles for the early dead ! 
We grieve not when, his day of labor o'er, 
The weary peasant bows his fainting head 

At his low cottage door. 

Tears for the early dead ! 
The bright and beautiful from earth set free : 
Yes ! drop upon their flower-encircled bed 

Tears of sweet ecstasy. 

Prayers for the early dead ! 
Of fervent thanksgiving and holy trust, 
Through him, the Conqueror over death, be said, 

Above their sleeping dust. 

Songs for the early dead ! 
Wherewith to cheer the heart of sorrowing love, 
They sweep their golden harps with those who tread 

Celestial courts above. 

Thus crown the early dead, 
Whose grave is even as a hallowed shrine. 
With all pure things and bright their names are wed, 

In union most divine. 



THE RETURNING WANDERER. 

TT^ELCOME ! thou blessed spot ! 

Too long my feet the stranger's soil have pressed. 
Long viewless, but, oh ! never yet forgot, 
I seek thy blissful rest. 

Welcome ! my childhood's home ! 
How doth my soul with voiceless rapture burn ! 
Once more thy well-remembered haunts to roam, 

My wandering footsteps turn. 



MARY WHITWELL HALE. 277 

Before the shrine I bow, 
Holy and hallowed by the air of heaven, 
Where, by the covenant of baptismal vow, 

My soul to God was given. 

My spirit leaps to greet 
Its altar-fires, its music rich and rare, 
And listen to the breathings low and sweet, 

Borne on the wings of prayer. 

And thou, upon whose breast 
Peaceful I slept in helpless infancy, 
Whose voice in dreams I hear, mother most blest ! 

Weary I turn to thee. 

When on the billow deep, 
Through cloud and storm my watery path I trod, 
Thine eye around my wa)^ its watch did keep, 

Thou ever-blessed God ! 

When Death's dread power was nigh, 
Thy guardian love my life unharmed hath kept. 
While fond affection, o'er the dying eye, 

In speechless sorrow wept. 

Therefore to thee I raise, 
To thee, whence mercy and deliverance came, 
With filial gratitude, a song of praise, 

And bless thy hallowed name. 

Guide me in safety through 
Earth's wanderings, till death's narrow way be pressed ; 
And the sweet founts and pastures green I view 

Of mv eternal rest. 



THE SON OF GOD. 

1VTOT within palace-halls 
-^ The holy Infant lay ; 
And yet upon those lowlier walls 
Beamed a celestial ray ; 



278 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

For there God's well-beloved Child 
Reposed, — the holy, undefiled ! 

Not on a downy bed 

Did the Redeemer lie ; 
He had not where to lay his head 

Beneath that Eastern sky ; 
And yet earth's desert wastes he trod, 
One with his Father and his God ; — 

One in that holy love 

Which his whole nature filled : 

His was the meekness of the dove ; 
Yet from his lips distilled 

Wisdom which earth can never reach, 

Wisdom which Heaven alone can teach. 

Sin had no power to dim 
The radiance of his brow ; 

Earth with its glories tempted him, 
His soul they could not bow ; 

But the unsounded depths of truth 

Fed the glad fountains of his youth. 

Within his soul he bore 

God's undisputed sign ; 
His seal upon his brow he wore, 

Mysterious, yet divine. 
Angels of spotless purity 
Left their bright homes his guard to be. 

The blind received their sight 
At his commanding word ; 

Guided by truth's celestial light, 
The soul's far depths he stirred. 

The earth gave back its icy dead ; 

Disease his mandate heard, and fled. 



MARY WHITWELL HALE. 2?g 

Saviour! be thou my guide, 

My refuge and my rest ! 
Cast down the pillars of my pride, 

And in my humble breast 
Erect the temple of thy grace ; 
And on its shrine thy signet trace. 



THE VOICE OF THE FLOWERS. 

A SWEET and blessed strain they swell, 

The glorious-tinted flowers, 
On sunny slope, in shaded dell, 
To cheer our weary hours. 

Their fragrant odors rise to heaven 

In homage and in prayer : 
Silent the dewy incense given, 

Yet God is hallowed there. 

Bring them to strew around your dead, 

To shine above their tomb : 
Bright presage from their hues is shed 

Of heaven's immortal bloom. 

They woo us with their balmy breath 

To summer bowers on high ; 
They point us from decay and death 

To flowers which never die. 

Praise to thee, Brightener of our hours ! 

For this sweet ministry, 
Which, by the breath of thy fair flowers, 

Is leading us to thee. 



280 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



We give also, from Miss Hale's volume of "Poems," two other 
hymns from which stanzas have been taken for the Collections. 



SABBATH HYMN. 



HPHIS day let grateful praise ascend 

To thee, our Father and our Friend ; 
Thee, Author of this holy light, 
Thee, throned in boundless power and might. 



To thee its morning light be given, 
The noontide blaze, the dew of even ; 
And may its silent night-watch be 
Devoted, Mighty One, to thee ! 

Let no vain words of homage rise, 
An empty, heartless sacrifice ; 
Or clouds of breathing incense swell, 
The pomp of human pride to tell. 

The silent prayer, the contrite sigh, 
The chastened heart, the filial eye, 
Shall rise, a holier gift to thee, 
And at thy throne accepted be. 

Oh, let the sacred hours be given 
To truth, to duty, and to heaven ; 
While trusting faith and holy love 
Rise fervent to thy throne above. 

Grant that our earthly Sabbaths be 
But dawnings of eternity, 
To shadow forth that glorious rest, 
The heavenly quiet of the blest. 



MARY WHITWELL HALE. 28 1 



A MOTHER'S COUNSEL. 

" Whatever weakens your reason, impairs the tenderness of your conscience, obscures 
your sense of God, or takes off the relish of spiritual things ; in short, whatever increases 
the strength and authority of your body over your mind, that thing is sin to you, however 
innocent it maybe in itself." — The Mother of John Wesley. 

^VT HATEVER dims thy sense of truth, 

Or stains thy purity, 
Though light as breath of summer air, 
Count it as sin to thee. 

Let not the world thy God dethrone, 

Or from his smile divide ; 
And count, compared with heavenly wealth, 

As dross all things beside. 

Dim not the crystal of thy soul 

By sin's destroying breath : 
There lurks beneath its siren smile 

Dark treachery and death. 

Preserve the tablets of thy thoughts 

From every blemish free, 
While the Redeemer's lowly faith 

Its temple makes with thee. 

And pray of God that grace be given 

To tread time's narrow way ; 
How dark soever it may be, 

It leads to cloudless dav. 



CHRISTMAS. 

The following two hymns are not in the "Poems," but are taken from the Cheshire 

Collection. 

T\7HEN in silence, o'er the deep, 

Darkness kept its deathlike sleep ; 
Soon as God his mandate spoke, 
Light in wondrous beauty broke. 



282 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

But a beam of holier light 
Gilded Bethlehem's lonely night, 
When the glory of the Lord, 
Mercy's sunlight, shone abroad. 

" Peace on earth, good-will to men," 
Burst the glorious anthem then ; 
Angels, bending from above, 
Joined that strain of holy love. 

Floating o'er the waves of time, 
Comes to us that song sublime, 
Bearing to the pilgrim's ear 
Words to soothe, sustain, and cheer. 

For Creation's blessed light, 
Praise to thee, thou God of Might ! 
Seraph strains thy name should bless 
For the Sun of Righteousness ! 



TEMPERANCE ANNIVERSARY. 

"DRAISE for the glorious light 

Which crowns this joyous day ; 
Whose beams dispel the shades of night, 
And wake our grateful lay ! 

Praise for the mighty band, 
Redeemed from error's chain, 

Whose echoing voices, through our land, 
Join our triumphant strain ! 

Ours is no conquest gained 

Upon the tented field ; 
Nor hath the flowing life-blood stained 

The victor's helm and shield. 



JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE. 283 

But the strong might of love, 

And truth's all-pleading voice, 
As angels bending from above, 

Have made our hearts rejoice. 

Lord ! upward to thy throne 

The imploring voice we raise ; 
The might, the strength, are thine alone ! 

Thine be our loftiest praise. 

JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE. 

(1810.) 

Rev. James Freeman Clarke, D.D., was born in Hanover, N.H., 
April 4, 1810, and was named for Rev. James Freeman, D.D., who, as 
we have related in the first sketch in this volume, married Mrs. Samuel 
Clarke, a grand-parent of the subject of this notice. The grandson 
graduated at Harvard College in 1829, and at the Cambridge Divinity 
School in 1833. He was pastor of the Unitarian Society in Louisville, 
Ky., from 1833 to 1840, and was the minister of the Church of the Dis- 
ciples in Boston, from 1841 to 1850. After an interval of three years, he 
resumed the charge of the latter, and has ever since continued in that 
relation. He was Secretary of the American Unitarian Association from 
1859 to 1862, and meanwhile edited its organ, "The Monthly Journal." 
The degree of D.D. was conferred upon him by Harvard College in 
1863, and from 1867 to 187 1 he was a Professor of Natural Theology 
and Christian Doctrine in the Theological School, at Cambridge. He 
also served for three terms on the Board of Overseers of the Univer- 
sity, and was for five or six years a member of the State Board of 
Education. 

Dr. Clarke is the author of a large number of important works, not a 
few of which have passed through several editions, and have exerted 
a wide and powerful influence in moulding the theological views and 
opinions of the day. His literary career began as long ago as 1836, when 
he took charge of the " Western Messenger," at Louisville, and con- 
tinued to edit it for three years. He translated De Wette's "Theo- 
dore," in two volumes, for Ripley's "Specimens of Foreign Literature," 
1840. He published his "Campaign of 1812," in the "Life and Mili- 
tary Services of General William Hull," in 1848 ; " Eleven Weeks in 
Europe," in 1851 ; "Christian Doctrine of Forgiveness," 1852 ; in con- 



284 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

nection with Ralph Waldo Emerson and William Henry Channing, the 
"Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli," 1852; "Christian Doctrine of 
Prayer," 1854 (enlarged edition, 1856) ; "The Hour which Cometh," a 
volume of sermons, 1864 ; " Orthodoxy : its Truths and Errors," 1866 ; 
"Steps of Belief," 1870; "Ten Great Religions," 187 1 ; and "Common 
Sense in Religion," 1873. 

He has also contributed largely for the last thirty or forty years to all 
the denominational, and to many of the literary and secular magazines 
or journals. Among his contributions to the "Christian Examiner," 
may be mentioned his articles on " Fourierism," " The Doctrine of the 
Atonement," "Joan of Arc," "Orestes A. Brownson," " Furness's Life 
of Jesus," "Polemics and Irenics," and reviews of Nehemiah Adams, 
President Lord, and Bishop Hopkins, on Slavery, and of Henry James, 
Buckle, Carlyle, Bushnell, Rousseau, &c. Of other publications are his 
address on the Ter-Centennial of Shakespeare, 1864, and a very large 
number of discourses or sermons, printed in the papers or in pamphlet 
form, upon subjects relating to Religion, Reform movements, Politics, 
and the War. Through all his active life Dr. Clarke has been a prom- 
inent advocate of freedom and friend of humanity, and has been distin- 
guished for his broad and genial sympathies with sects and parties of the 
most varied or antagonistic views, while yet holding firmly to his own 
clear and well-defined opinions. This strength of conviction and catho- 
licity of spirit, taken in connection with his large resources of thought 
and illustration, his keenness and cogency of argument, his ample range 
of knowledge and inquiry, and his simplicity and force of expression, 
have gained him a commanding influence among men. 

Dr. Clarke's hymn-books have often been remarked upon for their 
superior excellence. His original compilation, entitled " Service Book," 
was published in 1844, and was the first introduction to Americans of 
" Nearer, my God, to thee," and other favorite hymns of Sarah Flower 
Adams. Mrs. Adams was a worshipper at the Unitarian Chapel of Rev. 
W. J. Fox, in London, and contributed these hymns to a Collection 
that was made for the use of her own minister's congregation. A copy 
of this Collection was given to Dr. Clarke by his friend Mr. Bakewell, in 
Pittsburgh, Pa., and from it " Nearer, my God, to thee," found its way 
at once into the " Service Book," as stated above. Thence it was taken 
for the "Plymouth Collection," and soon afterwards was adopted by 
other compilers, and at length was known throughout the country. 
Perhaps no hymn of modern date has had a more wonderful history. 
Equally acceptable to all sects and denominations, it has already been 
translated into numerous languages, and is sung to the tune of " Bethany," 
not alone in the churches of America and England, but in the countries 
of Europe, and even in the distant missionary establishments of the 
East. In the recent Temperance Crusade in our own land, it was espe- 
cially this hymn that burst from the hearts and lips of the multitudes, 
and voiced their deepest sentiments and highest aspirations. 



JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE. 285 

A revised and enlarged edition of Dr. Clarke's " Service Book" was 
published in 1852, under the title of "Disciples' Hymn-Book," a marked 
feature of which was the presence of not less than twenty-eight ot the 
hymns of another gifted English writer of sacred songs, Thomas Horn- 
blower Gill, eight of them having been previously introduced into Hedge 
and Huntington's Collection. In Dr. Clarke's books are some very 
fine, noble hymns of his own, which we here copy, together with several 
others by him from Griswold's " Poets of America." The first three are 
taken from Griswold, and those which follow from the edition of Dr. 
Clarke's Hymn-Book, published in 1852. 



HYMN AND PRAYER. 

"INFINITE Spirit ! who art round us ever, 

In whom we float, as motes in summer sky, 
May neither life nor death the sweet bond sever, 
Which joins us to our unseen Friend on high. 

Unseen, — yet not unfelt, — if any thought 

Has raised our mind from earth, or pure desire, 

A generous act, or noble purpose brought, 
It is thy breath, O Lord, which fans the fire. 

To me the meanest of thy creatures, kneeling, 

Conscious of weakness, ignorance, sin, and shame, 

Give such a force of holy thought and feeling, 
That I may live to glorify thy name ; 

That I may conquer base desire and passion, 
That I may rise o'er selfish thought and will, 

O'ercome the world's allurement, threat, and fashion, 
Walk humbly, softly, leaning on thee still. 

I am unworthy. Yet, for their dear sake 
I ask, whose roots planted in me are found ; 

For precious vines are propped by rudest stake, 
And heavenly roses fed in darkest ground. 

Beneath my leaves, though early fallen and faded, 

Young plants are warmed, — they drink my branches' dew 

Let them not, Lord, by me be Upas-shaded ; 

Make me, for their sake, firm, and pure, and true. 



286 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

For their sake, too, the faithful, wise, and bold, 
Whose generous love has been my pride and stay, 

Those who have found in me some trace of gold, 
For their sake purify my lead and clay. 

And let not all the pains and toil be wasted, 
Spent on my youth by saints now gone to rest ; 

Nor that deep sorrow my Redeemer tasted, 

When on his soul the guilt of man was pressed. 

Tender and sensitive, he braved the storm, 
That we might fly a well-deserved fate, 

Poured out his soul in supplication warm, 
With eyes of love looked into eyes of hate. 

Let all this goodness by my mind be seen, 
Let all this mercy on my heart be sealed ! 

Lord, if thou wilt, thy power can make me clean : 
O, speak the word, — thy servant shall be healed. 



JACOB'S WELL. 

Suggested by a sketch of Jacob's well, and Mt. Gerizim. 

"LJERE, after Jacob parted from his brother, 

His daughters lingered round this well, new made ; 
Here, seventeen centuries after, came another, 

And talked with Jesus, wondering and afraid. 
Here, other centuries past, the emperor's mother 

Sheltered its waters with a temple's shade. 
Here, 'mid the fallen fragments, as of old, 
The girl her pitcher dips within its waters cold. 

And Jacob's race grew strong for many an hour, 
Then torn beneath the Roman eagle lay ; 

The Roman's vast and earth-controlling power 

Has crumbled, like these shafts and stones, away ; 

But still the waters, fed by dew and shower, 
Come up, as ever, to the light of day, 

And still the maid bends downward with her urn, 

Well pleased to see its glass her lovely face return. 



JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE. 287 

And those few words of truth, first uttered here, 
Have sunk into the human soul and heart ; 

A spiritual faith dawns bright and clear, 
Dark creeds and ancient mysteries depart ; 

The hour for God's true worshippers draws near ; 
Then mourn not o'er the wrecks of earthly art : 

Kingdoms may fall, and human works decay, 

Nature moves on unchanged, Truths never pass away. 



THE VIOLET. 

Written for a little girl to speak on May-Day. in the character of the Violet. 

TITHEN April's warmth unlocks the clod, 

Softened by gentle showers, 
The violet pierces through the sod, 

And blossoms, first of flowers ; 
So may I give my heart to God 

In childhood's early hours. 

Some plants, in gardens only found, 

Are raised with pains and care : 
God scatters violets all around, 

They blossom everywhere ; 
Thus may my love to all abound, 

And all my fragrance share. 

Some scentless flowers stand straight and high, 

With pride and haughtiness : 
But violets perfume land and sky, 

Although they promise less. 
Let me, with all humility, 

Do more than I profess. 

Sweet flower, be thou a type to me 

Of blameless joy and mirth, 
Of widely scattered sympathy, 

Embracing all God's earth, — 
Of early-blooming piety, 

And unpretending worth. 



288 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



THE PRODIGAL. 

"DROTHER, hast thou wandered far 

From thy Father's happy home, 
With thyself and God at war ? 

Turn thee, brother, homeward come ! 

Hast thou wasted all the powers 

God for noble uses gave ? 
Squandered life's most golden hours ? 

Turn thee, brother, God can save ! 

Is a mighty famine now 

In thy heart and in thy soul ? 

Discontent upon thy brow ? 

Turn thee, God will make thee whole ! 

Fall before him on the ground, 

Pour thy sorrow in his ear ; 
Seek him, for he may be found ; 

Call upon him ; He is near. 



BAPTISM OF A CHILD. 

^0 thee, O God in heaven, 
This little one we bring, 
Giving to thee what thou hast given, 
Our dearest offering. 

Into a world of toil 

These little feet will roam, 
Where sin its purity may soil, 

Where care and grief may come. 

O, then, let thy pure love, 

With influence serene, 
Come down, like water, from above, 

To comfort and make clean. 



JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE. 289 



BAPTISM OF CHILDREN. 

'T" v him who children blessed, 
And suffered them to come, 
To him who took them to his breast, 
We bring these children home. 

To thee, O God, whose face 

Their spirits still behold, 
We bring them, praying that thy grace 

May keep, thine arms enfold. 

And as this water falls 

On each unconscious brow, 

Thy holy Spirit grant, O Lord ! • 
To keep them pure as now. 



FEAST OF THE REFORMATION. 

This hymn, as it was sung at the Collation given by the Unitarians of New York and 
Brooklyn to the members of the Convention assembled in the former city, Oct. 22, J 845, 
had two additional stanzas, not printed here. 

"pOR all thy gifts we praise thee, Lord, 
With lifted song and bended knee ; 
But now our thanks are chiefly poured 
For those who taught us to be free. 

.For when the soul lay bound below 
A heavy yoke of forms and creeds, 

And none thy word of truth could know, 

O'ergrown with tares and choked with weeds, 

Thy strength, O Lord, in that dark night, 
By mouths of babes thou didst ordain ; 

And thy free truth went forth with might, 
Not empty to return again. 

The monarch's sword, the prelate's pride, 
The Church's curse, the empire's ban, 

By one poor monk were all defied, 
Who never feared the face of man. 
19 



290 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Half-battles were the words he said, 
Each born of prayer, baptized in tears ; 

And, routed by them, backward fled 
The errors of a thousand years. 

With lifted song and bended knee, 
For all thy gifts we praise thee, Lord ; 

But chief for those who made us free, 
The champions of thy holy word. 



ORDAINING A WESTERN MISSIONARY. 

"VX 7HERE, for a thousand miles, 
The sweet Ohio smiles 

On bed of sand ; 
Where prairies blossom broad, 
Fair gardens sown by God, 
And lakes their ocean-flood 

Pour from his hand ; 

Where sleep, in rest profound, 
Beneath each ancient mound, 

A buried race ; 
There, brother, go and teach ; 
From heart to heart shall reach 
Thy free and earnest speech 

Of heavenly grace. 

Where the tall forest waves 
Above those mouldering graves, 

God's truth declare ; 
While his " first temples " spread 
Their arches o'er thy head, 
Lift o'er the slumbering dead 

The voice of prayer. 



While rolls the living tide 
Down Alleghany's side 
Its ceaseless flood ; 



JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE. 291 

Upon the mountains, there, 
How beautiful appear 
The feet of those who bear 
Tidings of good. 

O Thou, whose suns and rains 
Upon those mighty plains 

Fall evermore ! 
Send down the dews of peace, 
The Sun of Righteousness, 
And let thy light increase 

From shore to shore ! 



CANA. 

T^EAR Friend ! whose presence in the house. 

Whose gracious word benign, 
Could once, at Cana's wedding-feast, 
Change water into wine, — 

Come visit us, and when dull work 

Grows weary, line on line, 
Revive our souls, and make us see 

Life's water glow as wine. 

Gay mirth shall deepen into joy, 

Earth's hopes shall grow divine, 
When Jesus visits us, to turn 

Life's water into wine. 

The social talk, the evening fire, 

The homely household shrine, 
Shall glow with angel-visits when 

The Lord pours out the wine. 

For when self-seeking turns to love, 
Which knows not mine and thine, 

The miracle again is wrought, 
And water changed to wine. 



292 SOJVGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



IN SPIRIT AND TRUTH. 

f~^ I VE me, my God, to feel thee in my joy, 

So shall my joy to love ennobled be ; 
Give me to feel thee in this slight annoy, 

Which turns to hope through that fine alchemy. 

Give me, within the work which calls to-day, 
To see thy finger gently beckoning on ; 

So struggle grows to freedom, work to play, 
And toils begun from thee to thee are done-. 

The timely flower from earth's low tree may fall, - 
The human wish may in the heart expire ; 

But from the blossom God the fruit shall call, 
And heavenly love infer from earth's desire. 

I lay each humblest hope within my prayer; 

To thee no high seraphic aims I bring ; 
My daily bread, rest, strength for common care, — 

Yet all is truth within my offering. 

But God demands both spirit, truth, and faith, 
To fit earth's tones for his immortal clime, 

And Christ, in his o'ercoming life and death, 
Hath given the fulness of his faith sublime. 

So what remains to sanctify my prayer, 

If I bring truth, and Christ his faith impart ? 

Thou Spirit, born of whom all spirits are, 
With thine essential nature feed my heart. 

Then, God, whose fire forms rubies out of clay, 
And bids dull charcoal into diamonds burn, — 

Add thou the grace, while in the truth I pray, 
And this poor earth-sob into music turn. 



JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE. 293 

NEW HEAVENS AND NEW EARTH. 

TVTEW heavens ! new earth ! where are ye ? Evermore 

Cold skies, hard land, oppress the weary heart ; 
seer, who gazed from Patmos' island-shore 
Into the future, when shall these depart ? 

Earth, in her circular path among the stars, 
Bears the same burden still of sin and woe ; 

And through an orbit of recurring wars 
The disunited church must falter slow. 

O, for new heavens ! new light our minds to lead, 
New strength from God to nerve the palsied arm, 

New life from Christ to animate our dead, 

New love our souls to enlarge, our hearts to warm. 

Must we for ever tread this barren way ? 

Repeat the fruitless round of old routine, 
Where no new dawn proclaims the advancing day, 

No tender spring clothes earth anew with green ? 

Believe we rather in the coming sweet 

Of Christ on earth, the living Christ, to reign, — 

When saints, by creeds divided now, shall meet, 
And his one church, all churches shall contain. 

The lofty portals of these heavens expand, 

The everlasting doors are lifted high ; 
And troops of angels at the gateway stand, 

To welcome in redeemed humanity. 

How long, dear Mother ! holy Church, how long ! 

From Austrian prison, Alabama's shore, 
The oppressed, with fainting hearts, their cries prolong: 

Come, city of our God, nor leave us more ! 

CLOSING ASPIRATION. 

C\ THOU, by God ordained to lead the race 

In mighty march and grand procession on ; 
King, Prophet, Saviour, — show thy human face, 
And let us know thee as ourselves are known. 



294 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Come, Prophet, teach the world. Thy solid truth 
Alone this doubt can cure, can light this gloom, 

Make real that unseen world's undying youth, 
Which turns to dreams the terrors of the tomb. 

Come, King, and reign o'er those who yearn to prove 
Life's task full-matched with their strong souls' desire ; 

Who long for work deserving human love, — 
Not to live idly, not unwept expire. 

Come, Saviour ; in our sin and need and pain, 
Treading the path where thy dear feet have gone, 

Help us through thy full life to live again, — 

And be, through thy deep peace, with God at one. 



THEODORE PARKER. 

(1810-1860.) 

Theodore Parker was born in Lexington, Mass., Aug. 24, 1810, and 
was the youngest of eleven children of John Parker and Hannah (Stearns) 
Parker. The first of his ancestors in this country was Thomas Parker, 
who came from England in 1635, an< ^ settled in Lynn, Mass., but a few 
years later removed to Reading, where he died, in 1683. The grand- 
father of Theodore was Captain John Parker, who commanded a com- 
pany of the militia in the battle of Lexington, April 19, 1775. The 
father was a farmer and mechanic, and the son early learned to work in 
the shop and to till the soil. His early education was in the district 
school, and, at seventeen years of age, began himself to teach during the 
winter seasons. He entered Harvard College in 1830, but remained at 
home, where he pursued the regular course of study, and extended his 
acquisitions far beyond the limits prescribed for his class, gaining some 
means of support by giving private instruction, and going down to Cam- 
bridge to pass examination as occasion required. In consequence of his 
stay at Lexington during his academic life, he could not take the degree 
of A.B., but he received from the college that of A.M. in 1840. He 
entered the Middle Class of the Divinity School in 1834, and during his 
connection with that institution was one of the editors of the " Scriptu- 
ral Interpreter," a magazine conducted by the students. Graduating in 
1836, he preached at various places in Massachusetts in the autumn and 
winter of that year, and was ordained as the pastor of the Unitarian 
Church in West Roxbury, June 21, 1837. 



THEODORE PARKER. 295 

The important change which took place in his theological views while 
he was minister at West Roxbury, and which occasioned much contro- 
versy in Unitarian circles, was especially indicated in a famous disccurse 
on "The Transient and the Permanent in Christianity," delivered at the 
ordination of Rev. C. C. Shackford at South Boston, May 19, 1841, and 
in two courses of lectures which he gave in Boston and elsewhere in 
1841, 1842, 1843. * n September, 1843, h e went abroad, and travelled in 
England, France, Italy, and Germany, returning home in the summer of 
the following year. Urged to become the minister of a new society in 
Boston, he was installed as its pastor Jan. 4, 1846, and continued his 
labors in connection with it until disabled by his final sickness, his con- 
gregation worshipping at first at the Melodeon and afterward at the 
Music Hall. He preached to the largest Sunday audience in the city ; 
lectured, often each winter, before lyceums to crowded houses in different 
parts of the country ; took a very conspicuous part in the Anti-slavery 
Cause and in many other great reforms ; and, by his utterances and writ- 
ings, made his influence powerfully felt in all the great departments of 
Literature, Politics, Philanthropy, and Religion. An attack of bleeding 
at the lungs obliged him to desist from his herculean labors in January, 
1859. The next month he sailed for Santa Cruz, and thence to Europe. 
He spent some time in Switzerland, and then went to Rome, where he 
passed his last winter. He repaired to Florence in April, reaching the 
city in a very enfeebled condition. He died there a few weeks afterward, 
May 10, i860, and was buried in the cemetery, outside the walls, Rev. 
Mr. Cunningham, an old friend, conducting the funeral service. It is 
thought that this brief epitome of his history may not be without its use 
for reference, however well known his story may be to the public, — a 
story which has been made more familiar to it, in elaborate detail, by the 
extensive and interesting biographies of him written by Rev. Messrs. 
Weiss and Frothingham. 

It remains, however, to make some mention of his more noteworthy 
or celebrated theological, literary, and political writings. In 1843 ap- 
peared his translation of De Wette's " Introduction to the Old Testa- 
ment," and a volume of his "Miscellaneous Writings." In December, 
1847, ne began a three years' editorial charge of the " Massachusetts 
Quarterly," among his own contributions to which were papers on Em- 
erson, Channing, and Prescott. He published a volume, entitled "A 
Discourse of Matters pertaining to Religion," in 1849 ; " Occasional Ser- 
mons and Speeches," in two volumes, 1852 ; " Ten Sermons on Religion," 
1853 ; " Sermons on Theism, Atheism, and the Popular Theology," 
1853; "Additional Speeches, Addresses, &c," 1855; "Trial of Theo- 
dore Parker for the 'Misdemeanor of a Speech in Faneuil Hall against 
Kidnapping,' " 1855 ; "Two Christmas Celebrations," and " Experience 
as a Minister," 1859. Of his numerous pamphlet discourses, the most 
remarkable one was, perhaps, that which was occasioned by the death 
of Daniel Webster. Four lectures, which he wrote upon Washington, 



296 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Adams, Jefferson, and Franklin, were published in a volume, under the 
title of " Historic Americans," in 1870, and edited by Rev. O. B. Froth- 
ingham. Mr. Parker's works have been republished and widely read in 
England, and have been largely translated into other languages for cir- 
culation in other European countries. No one can doubt the immense 
influence which he has exerted by his vigorous thought, his vast learning, 
his pithy and telling style, and his intense and unabated zeal, upon the 
mind of the age ; while, however men may dissent from many of his 
theological views, it will be remembered to his eternal honor, that, a 
Puritan of Puritans in his faith in God and in his strictness of moral 
character, he was the stalwart and ever-faithful friend of wronged and 
oppressed humanity ; rained down blows, thick and fast, upon every 
giant sin or evil of his day ; and, at a time when most Christian pulpits 
were deaf and dumb to the demands of the hour, " preached righteous- 
ness in the great congregation." 

Mr. Parker was keenly alive to the charms of poetry, and not seldom 
indulged his muse, not without success, in original compositions, as well 
as in translations from bards of other languages. " His pen ran readily 
to rhyme," says Mr. Weiss. Strewn through the biographies of him are 
numerous pieces, sometimes playful and sometimes serious, which he 
wrote when the mood was upon him. Some of these we copy from the 
works just referred to. The Sonnets to Jesus are particularly beautiful, 
though it may be remarked that they were written before he changed his 
religious opinions. The first hymn we give is taken from an old printed 
Order of Service. 



DEDICATION HYMN. 

Written for the dedication of the new church erected by the Congregational Society in 
Watertown, Sept. 7, 1836. 

/ T^HE humble pile our fathers raised 

Has bowed beneath Time's mighty hand ; 
They too have gone whose voices praised 
Jehovah in a savage land. 

And now, O Lord, we build again, 

To seek thy favor and thy face, 
Another and a nobler fane, 

And ask thy blessing on this place. 

Here send thy Holy Spirit down, 
With favors from thy throne above, 

Our hearts to fill, our lives to crown : — 
O give us Faith, and Hope, and Love. 



THEODORE PARKER. 297 

And may there dwell within this place 

Each pure desire and holy trust, 
To fill our souls with heavenly grace, 

When these walls crumble to the dust. 



EVENING. 

Written while the author was a member of the Divinity School. From Weiss's " Life 
and Correspondence." 

"I1TOW sweetly from the western sky, 

Day's lingering colors fade ! 
How changing features softly vie, — ■ 
Shade deepening into shade ! 

How softly comes the grateful calm 

Which mellow evening brings ! 
The sweets of flowers, the breath of balm, 

Float on the zephyr's wings ! 

How soft that wandering cloud appears, 

As the last tinge of day 
Crimsons the peak it proudly rears, 

Then slowly dies away \ 

Now stars come forth, and one by one, 

In the broad field of night, 
Who veiled their face before the sun, 

Now pour emboldened light. 

Oh ! night and stars, your voice I hear 

Swell round the listening pole : 
Your hymns are praises, loud and clear, 

Are music to my soul. 

Sing on, sing on, celestial band, 

Till earth repeats your lays, 
Till the wide sea, the sky, the land, 

Shall celebrate His praise ! 



298 songs of the liberal faith. 

JESUS. 

Written in the winter of 1836. From Weiss's " Life and Correspondence." 

TESUS, there is no dearer name than thine, 

Which Time has blazoned on his mighty scroll; 
No wreaths nor garlands ever did entwine 
So fair a temple of so vast a soul. 

There every virtue set his triumph-seal ; 

Wisdom, conjoined with strength and radiant grace, 
In a sweet copy Heaven to reveal, 

And stamp perfection on a mortal face. 

Once on the earth wert thou, before men's eyes, 
That did not half thy beauteous brightness see ; 

E'en as the emmet does not read the skies, 
Nor our weak orbs look through immensity. 



THE ALMIGHTY LOVE. 

Introduced in a sermon which Mr. Parker preached, entitled u The Practical Effect of the 
Ecclesiastical Conception of God." From Weiss's " Life and Correspondence.'' 

TN darker days and nights of storm, 

Men knew thee but to fear thy form ; 
And in the reddest lightning saw 
Thine arm avenge insulted law. 

In brighter days, we read thy love 
In flowers beneath, in stars above ; 
And in the track of every storm 
Behold thy beauty's rainbow form. 

And in the reddest lightning's path 
We see no vestiges of wrath, 
But always wisdom, — perfect love, 
From flowers beneath to stars above. 

See, from on high sweet influence rains 
On palace, cottage, mountains, plains ; 
No hour of wrath shall mortal fear, 
For their Almighty Love is here. 



THEODORE PARKER. 299 



A PRAYER. 

f~\ THOU Eternal One, may I commune 

^^^ With thee, and for a moment bathe my soul 

In thy infinity, Mother and Sire 

Of all that are ? In all that is art thou ; 

Being is but by thee, of thee, in thee ; 

Yet far thou reachest forth beyond the scope 

Of space and time, or verge of human thought. 

Transcendent God ! Yet, ever immanent 

In all that is, I flee to thee, and seek 

Repose and soothing in my Mother's breast. 

God, I cannot fear, for thou art love, 
And wheresoe'er I grope I feel thy breath ! 
Yea, in the storm which wrecks an argosy, 
Or in the surges of the sea of men 
When empires perish, I behold thy face, 

1 hear thy voice, which gives the law to all 
The furies of the storm, and Law proclaims, 

" Peace, troubled waves, serve ye the right, — be still ! " 

From all this dusty world thou wilt not lose 

A molecule of earth nor spark of light. 

I cannot fear a single flash of soul 

Shall ever fail, outcast from thee, forgot. 

Father and Mother of all things that are, 

I flee to thee, and in thy arms find rest. 

My God ! how shall I thank thee for thy love ! 

Tears must defile my sacramental words, 

And daily prayer be daily penitence 

For actions, feelings, thoughts, which are amiss : 

Yet will I not say, " God forgive ! " for thou 

Hast made the effect to follow cause, and bless 

The erring, sinning man. Then let my sin 

Continual find me out, and make me clean 

From all transgression, purified and blest ! 



300 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



The following sonnets we copy from Mr. Frothingham's Life of Mr. 
Parker. For convenience, we prefix titles to indicate their subjects. 

THE SPIRIT OF JESUS. 

T^VEAR Jesus, were thy spirit now on earth, 

Where thou hast toiled and wept a world to win, 
What vast ideas would sudden come to birth ! 

What strong endeavors 'gainst o'er-mastering sin ! 
Thy blest beatitudes again thou'dst speak ; 

And, with deep-hearted words that smite like fire, 
Wouldst thou rebuke the oppressor of the weak. 

But, turning thence to prophets that aspire, 
How wouldst thou cheer the souls that seek to save 

Their brothers smarting 'neath a despot's rod ; 
To lift the poor, the fallen, and the slave, 

And lead them all alive to worship God ! 
Bigots wouldst thou refuse that hindering stand, 
But send thy gospel-fraught apostles conquering through the 
land. 

THE WAY, THE TRUTH, THE LIFE. 

This sonnet, in a slightly different form, is one of the most favorite hymns in our Col- 
lections, — the last two lines being omitted, and the words, " Thee would I sing," reading, 
" We look to thee." 

f~\ THOU great Friend to all the sons of men, 

Who once appear'dst in humblest guise below, 
Sin to rebuke, to break the captive's chain, 

To call thy brethren forth from want and woe ! — 
Thee would I sing. Thy truth is still the light 

Which guides the nations groping on their way, 
Stumbling and falling in disastrous night, 

Yet hoping ever for the perfect day. 
Yes, thou art still the life ; thou art the way 

The holiest know, — light, life, and way of heaven \ 
And they who dearest hope and deepest pray 

Toil by the truth, life, way that thou hast given \ 
And in thy name aspiring mortals trust 
To uplift their bleeding brothers rescued from the dust. 



THEODORE PARKER. 30 1 



THE SAVIOUR'S GOSPEL. 

r\ BROTHER, who for us didst meekly wear 
^^^ The crown of thorns about thy radiant brow ! 
What gospel from the Father didst thou bear, 

Our hearts to cheer, making us happy now ? 
" 'Tis this alone," the immortal Saviour cries : 

" To fill thy heart with ever-active love, — 
Love for the wicked as in sin he lies, 

Love for thy brother here, thy God above. 
Fear nothing ill ; 'twill vanish in its day : 

Live for the good, taking the ill thou must ; 
Toil with thy might ; with manly labor pray ; 

Living and loving, learn thy God to trust, 
And he will shed upon thy soul the blessings of the just." 



THE HIGHER GOOD. 

From Mr. Parker's Journal of 1849. 

"pATHER, I will not ask for wealth or fame, 

Though once they wOuld have joyed my carnal sense 
I shudder not to bear a hated name, 

Wanting all wealth, myself my sole defence. 
But give me, Lord, eyes to behold the truth ; 

A seeing sense that knows the eternal right ; 
A heart with pity filled, and gentlest ruth ; 

A manly faith that makes all darkness light : 
Give me the power to labor for mankind ; 

Make me the mouth of such as cannot speak ; 
Eyes let me be to groping men, and blind ; 

A conscience to the base ; and to the weak 
Let me be hands and feet ; and to the foolish, mind ; 
And lead still further on such as thy kingdom seek. 



302 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



THE FATHER'S HAND. 

'T^HROUGH crooked paths thou hast conducted me, 

And thorns oft forced my timid flesh to bleed : 
Still I rejoiced my Leader's hand to see, 

Trusting my Father in my hour of need. 
When in the darkness of my early youth, 

Stumbling and groping for a better way, 
Through riven clouds streamed down the light of Truth, 

And made it morning with refulgent ray, 
Along the steep and weary path I trod, 

With none to guide, and few to comfort me. 
I felt the presence of the Eternal God, 

That in his hand 'twas blessedness to be, 
Finding relief from woes in consciousness of thee. 



THANKFULNESS AND TRUST. 

"pOR all the trials of my earlier day, 

I thank thee, Father, that they all have been ; 
That darkness lay about the rugged way 

Which I must tread alone. For all I've seen 
Of disappointment, sorrow, pain, and loss, 

I thank thee for them all. And did I sin, 
I grieve not I've been tried ; for e'en the cross 

Of penitence has taught me how to win. 
Yet, of the ills as child or man I've borne, — 

My hopes laid waste, or friends sent off by death, - 
Remorse has most of all my bosom torn 

For time misspent, ill deeds, or evil breath. 
But yet, for every grief my heart has worn, 

Father, I thank thee still, trusting with hearty faith. 

THE GOOD SHEPHERD. 

"\7"ES, Holy One, thou the good Shepherd art, 

Enduring hardest service for thy sheep, 
Hearing their bleatings with a human heart, 
Not losing such as thou wert put to keep ; 



CHANDLER ROBBINS. 303 

But feeble wanderers from the field astray 

Thou on thy shoulders takest, and dost bear 
From hireling thieves and murdering wolves away, 

And watchest o'er them with a guardian care. 
Thou art the human Shepherd of the sheep, 

Leading them forth to pasture all the day ; 
At night to folds which them in safety keep. 

Thou light and life from God, to heaven the way, 
And giving, at the last, thy own, thy well-beloved, sleep. 



>xk< 



CHANDLER ROBBINS. 

(1810.) 

Rev. Chandler Robe-ins, D.D., was born in Lynn, Mass., Feb. 14, 
1S10. He graduated at Harvard College in 1829, and at the Cambridge 
Divinity School in 1833. He was ordained pastor of the Second Church 
in Boston, Dec. 4, 1833, Rev - Henry Ware, Jr., D.D., its former minister, 
preaching the sermon. His immediate predecessor was Ralph Waldo 
Emerson. Dr. Robbins still has charge of this ancient society, having 
thus continued in this relation for more than forty years. He is a mem- 
ber of the Massachusetts Historical Society, and he received the degree 
of D.D. from Harvard College in 1855. 

The more important of his published writings are, A History of the 
Second Church in Boston, with Lives of Increase and Cotton Mather ; 
Two Sermons on the Death of Rev. Henry Ware, Jr., D.D. ; Two His- 
torical Discourses on taking down the "New Brick Church ; " Artillery 
Election Sermon, 1836 ; Memoirs of Rev. Alexander Young and Hon. 
William Appleton, and various papers in the Collections of the Massa- 
chusetts Historical Society ; Lectures on the Regicide before the Lowell 
Institute; and articles in the "Knickerbocker," "Christian Examiner," 
and other literary and religious periodicals. He also edited the works 
of Henry Ware, Jr., in four volumes, and has published numerous ordi- 
nation, dedication, and other occasional sermons. 

In 1S43 ne compiled "The Social Hymn-Book," which .was designed 
" for vestry meetings and for parishes that were unable to procure more 
expensive collections," and which was filled with the choicest and most 
devotional sacred lyrics. 

In 1854 he compiled another, which was larger and more specially 
adapted to the use of churches generally, and which was entitled 
" Hymn-Book for Christian Worship." For his own use, this was bound 
up with a "Liturgy for a Christian Church." 



304 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



We find only two hymns that are to be referred to Dr. Robbins as 
their author. These were contributed to an excellent Collection made 
by Rev. George E. Ellis, D.D., and published (new edition) in 1853, 
" Psalms and Hymns for the Sanctuary." They are as follows : — 



"SPEAK, LORD, FOR THY SERVANT HEARETH." 

"V\7'HILE thus thy throne of grace we seek, 

O God, within our spirits speak ! 
For we will hear thy voice to-day, 
Nor turn our hardened hearts away. 

Speak" in thy gentlest tones of love, 
Till all our best affections move ; 
We long to hear no meaner call, 
But feel that thou art all in all. 

To conscience speak thy quickening word, 
Till all its sense of sin is stirred ; 
For we would leave no stain of guile, 
To cloud the radiance of thy smile. 

Speak, Father, to the anxious heart, 
Till every fear and doubt depart ; 
For we can find no home or rest, 
Till with thy Spirit's whispers blest. 

Speak to convince, forgive, console ; 
Child-like we yield to thy control : 
These hearts, too often closed before, 
Would grieve thy patient love no more. 



A pleasant incident is related of the hymn that follows. A com- 
pany of Bostonians, among whom was a daughter of Dr. Robbins, Mrs. 
Hill, were returning from England in a Cunard steamer. An aged 
Scotch Presbyterian minister and his wife were among the passengers. 
The party were singing hymns on deck at the close of a lovely Sabbath 
day, when the clergyman went to his state-room and brought a book of 



EDMUND HAMILTON SEARS. > 305 

hymns and tunes to show them what he said was the sweetest hymn he 
knew, set to the sweetest tune. What was the Boston lady's surprise to 
hear him repeat the lines which her own father had written. " Lo ! the 
day of rest declineth," and begin to .sing "Bedford Street," a tune 
composed for the words by Mr. L. B. Barnes, President of the Handel 
and Haydn Society, and named for the author's own church, which was 
in Bedford Street, Boston. The hymn is in many Collections, and well 
befits the sacred quiet of a Sabbath evening. 



EVENING HYMN. CLOSE OF WORSHIP. 

T O ! the day of rest declineth, 

Gather fast the shades of night ; 
May the Sun that ever shineth 
Fill our souls with heavenly light. 

Softly now the dew is falling ; 

Peace o'er all the scene is spread ; 
On his children, meekly calling, 

Purer influence God will shed. 

While thine ear of love addressing, 
Thus our parting hymn we sing, — 

Father, give thine evening blessing ; 
Fold us safe beneath thy wing. 

»0^00 

EDMUND HAMILTON SEARS. 

(1810.) 

Rev. Edmund H. Sears. D.D., was born in Berkshire, Mass., in 
1810. He graduated at Union College, Schenectady, N.Y., in 1834, and 
at the Theological School, at Cambridge, in 1837. He became the minis- 
ter of the Unitarian Church in Wayland, Mass., in 1838 ; removed to 
Lancaster in 1840, and returned to his former charge in Wayland in 1847. 
Here he remained until 1865, when he assumed the pastoral care of the 
Unitarian Society in Weston, where he now resides, pursuing still the 
duties of his profession, and adding thereto his continued labors as an 
author. 

20 



306 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

He first came to be widely known by an able, suggestive, and beau- 
tiful treatise, entitled " Regeneration," which was written at the request 
of the Executive Committee of the American Unitarian Association, and 
published in 1854. This was followed by " Pictures of the Olden Time," 
in 1857 ; "Athanasia, or Foregleams of Immortality," in 1858 (enlarged 
edition in 1872) ; and "The Fourth Gospel the Heart of Christ," 1872. 
Most of these works have passed through various editions, and have 
been much read and admired in many Christian communions. They are 
marked by a high degree of intellectual vigor and abundant evidence of 
scholarly taste and of theological and literary attainments, while they are 
written in a singularly rich and poetic style, and teem with the most 
glowing spiritual thought and sentiment. For many years he has been 
a prolific writer for the " Monthly Religious Magazine," published in 
Boston; and for twelve years (1859-1871) he and Rev. Rufus Ellis were 
its editors. This periodical was formerly under the charge of Rev. Dr. 
Huntington; but, since 187 1, it has been edited successively by Rev. 
J. H. Morison, D.D., Rev. Charles Lowe, and Rev. Henry W. Foote. To 
its pages Dr. Sears has contributed not only numerous theological 
articles and " Random Readings," but also, from time to time, hymns 
and poems which have been gems of the rarest lustre. 

Dr. Sears received the degree of D.D. from his Alma Mater in 187 1. 
In 1873 he visited England, where his writings, but especially his most 
important work, "The Heart of Christ," secured for him much attention 
in religious circles. He has another volume in press, of Sermons and 
Songs, which, we need not say, will be warmly welcomed by his multi- 
tude of readers. 

In introducing a few of his best hymns, it may be said concerning the first, 
" Calm on the listening ear of night," that it has already been admitted 
— too often, we regret to say, only in part — into many Orthodox as well 
as Unitarian Collections in America and England, and promises to be 
one of the most universally accepted and cherished of all spiritual songs. 
Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, in a course of lectures which he delivered 
many years ago before the Lowell Institute in Boston, pronounced it one 
of the finest and most beautiful hymns ever written. It was first pub- 
lished, in its original form, in the " Boston Observer," in 1834 ; after- 
wards, in the "Christian Register," in 1835 ; subsequently it was emended 
by the author, and, as thus emended, was reprinted entire in the " Monthly 
Magazine," Vol. XXXV. As it has so frequently appeared in the hymn- 
books with unauthorized alterations and with various omissions, we 
present it here as it appeared in the periodical just referred to. 

CHRISTMAS SONG. 

f~^KLM on the listening ear of night 

Come Heaven's melodious strains, 
Where wild Judea stretches far 
Her silver-mantled plains ; 



EDMUND HAMILTON SEARS. 307 

Celestial choirs from courts above 

Shed sacred glories there ; 
And angels with their sparkling lyres 

Make music on the air. 

The answering hills of Palestine 

Send back the glad reply. 
And greet from all their holy heights 

The day-spring from on high. 
O'er the blue depths of Galilee 

There comes a holier calm ; 
And Sharon waves, in solemn praise, 

Her silent groves of palm. 

" Glory to God ! " The lofty strain 

The realm of ether fills : 
How sweeps the song of solemn joy 

O'er Judah's sacred hills ! 
" Glory to God ! " The sounding skies 

Loud with their anthems ring : 
" Peace on the earth ; good-will to men, 

From Heaven's eternal King ! " 

Light on thy hills, Jerusalem ! 

The Saviour now is born : 
More bright on Bethlehem's joyous plains 

Breaks the first Christmas morn ; 
And brighter on Moriah's brow, 

Crowned with her temple-spires, 
Which first proclaim the new-born light, 

Clothed with its orient fires. 

This day shall Christian hearts be mute 

And Christian hearts be cold ? 
Oh, catch the anthem that from heaven 

O'er Judah's mountains rolled ! 
When nightly burst from seraph-harps 

The high and solemn lay, — 
" Glory to God ! on earth be peace ; 

Salvation comes to-day ! " 



308 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

However much the foregoing hymn may be admired, another Christ- 
mas song, which Dr. Sears has written, and which is in not a few of the 
hymn-books, is thought by many to be even better. We copy it entire 
from Mr. Martineau's recent Collection, which omits the other. Rev. 
Dr. Morison, of Milton, writes to us : " Sears's second Christmas hymn 
was sent to me as editor of the ' Christian Register,' I think, in Decem- 
ber, 1849. I was ver y much delighted with it, and, before it came out 
in the 'Register,' read it at a Christmas celebration of Dr. Lunt's Sun- 
day school in Quincy. I always feel that, however poor my Christmas 
sermon may be, the reading and singing of this hymn are enough to make 
up for all deficiencies." 

PEACE ON EARTH. 

TT came upon the midnight clear, — 

That glorious song of old, 
From angels bending near the earth 

To touch their harps of gold : 
"Peace on the earth, good -will to men, 

From heaven's all-gracious King!" 
The world in solemn stillness lay 

To hear the angels sing. 

Still through the cloven skies they come, 

With peaceful wings unfurled ; 
And still their heavenly music floats 

O'er all the weary world. 
Above its sad and lowly plains 

They bend, on hovering wing ; 
And ever o'er its Babel sounds 

The blessed angels sing. 

Yet with the woes of sin and strife 

The world has suffered long : 
Beneath the angels' strain have rolled 

Two thousand years of wrong ; 
And man, at war with man, hears not 

The love-song which they bring : 
Oh, hush the noise, ye men of strife, 

And hear the angels sing ! 



EDMUND HAMILTON SEARS. 309 

And ye, beneath life's crushing load, 

Whose forms are bending low, 
Who toil along the climbing way 

With painful steps and slow, — 
Look now ! for glad and golden hours 

Come swiftly on the wing : 
Oh, rest beside the weary road, 

And hear the angels sing ! 

For lo ! the days are hastening on, 

By prophet-bards foretold, 
When with the ever-circling years 

Comes round the age of gold ; 
When peace shall over all the earth 

Its ancient splendors fling, 
And the whole world send back the song 

Which now the angels sing. 



"FEED MY LAMBS." 

Taken from the " Hymns of the Spirit." 

TLTO ! ye that rest beneath the rock, 

On pastures gently growing, 
Or roam at will, a favored flock, 

By waters gently flowing ; 
Hear ye upon the desert air 

A voice of woe come crying, 
Where, cold upon the barren moor, 

God's little lambs are dying ! 

See the great Shepherd bend and call 

From fields of light and glory, 
" Go, feed my lambs, and bring them all 

From moor and mountain hoary ! " 
Ye favored flock, the call obey, 

And from the desert dreary 
Lead those who faint along the way, 

Or wander, lost and weary. 



3IO SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 
ABOVE THE STORMS. 

Published in the "Religious Magazine," February, 1873. 

A BOVE the storms and thunder-jars 

That shake the eddying air, 
Away beneath the naked stars, 
Rises the Mount of Prayer ! 

The cumbering bars of mortal life 
Here break and fall away, 

And the harsh noise of human strife 
Comes never : Let us pray ! 

Here, Lord, may thy serener light 

Reveal my nature true, 
And all the pages dark and bright 

Lie open to my view. 

I've mingled in the battle-din 
That shakes the plains below, 

And passions born of earth and sin 
Have left their stains, I know. 

How silent move thy chariot-wheels 
Along our camping ground, 

Whose thickly folding smoke conceals 
Thy camp of fire around ! 

We tremble in the battle's roar, 
Are brave amid its calm ; 

And when the fearful fight is o'er 
We snatch thy victor-palm. 

On surface-knowledge we have fed, 
And missed the golden grain ; 

And now I come to thee for bread 
To sate this hunger-pain. 



EDMUND HAMILTON SEARS. 311 

No gift I bring, nor knowledge fine, 

Nor trophies of my own ; 
I come to lay my heart in thine, 

O Lamb amid the throne ! 

" All that the Father hath is mine," 

Thus does thy word declare, — 
So the full stream of Life Divine 

Flows from the Godhead there. 

The Tree of Life in mystic rows 

Stands in eternal green ; 
Out from the throne the river flows 

In crystal waves between. 

Ambrosial fruits hang o'er the waves 

That pour their cleansing flood, — 
Thy fount of love the heart that laves, 

And fills with royal good. 

That good I seek, yet not alone 

The hungered heart to fill, 
But as the angels nigh the throne, 

Made swift to do thy will : 

Thy will, unmingled, Lord, with mine, 

That makes all service sweet, 
And, charged with messages divine, 

Puts wings upon my feet. 

No need to trim my taper's blaze, 

No need of sun or moon ; 
The glories falling from thy face 

Make my unchanging noon. 



312 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

ABIEL ABBOT LIVERMORE. 
(1811.) 

Rev. A. A. Livermore was born in Wilton, N.H., Oct. 30, 181 1. 
His parents were Jonathan Livermore and Abigail (Abbot) Livermore ; 
and Sarah White Livermore, of whom we have given a sketch in another 
part of this volume, was his aunt. He fitted for College at Exeter, gradu- 
ated at Cambridge in the class of 1833, and at the Divinity School in 
1836. He was ordained pastor of the Unitarian Church in Keene, N.H., 
Nov. 2, 1836; and was installed minister of the Unitarian Church in Cin- 
cinnati, Ohio, May 26, 1850. This connection was dissolved in the summer 
of 1856; and on the 1st of January, 1857, he assumed the editorial charge 
of the New York " Christian Inquirer," which now bears the name of 
"Liberal Christian," while at the same time he served as pastor of Hope 
Church at Yonkers. He was chosen President of the Theological School 
at Meadville, Pa., June 25, 1863 ; and, entering upon the duties of the 
position shortly after, has since continued as the head of that institution, 
and has seen many classes of young men pass out of his care to become 
the ministers of the Liberal Faith in different sections of the country. 

Mr. Livermore, in connection with his professional labors, has found 
time to write and publish numerous very useful books : a Commentary 
on the Four Gospels, 1841-42 (republished in Belfast, Ireland, 1844) ; a 
Commentary on the Acts of the Apostles, 1844 (London edition, 1846) ; 
"Lectures to Young Men on their Moral Duties and Dangers," 1846; 
"The Marriage Offering," a compilation of prose and poetry, 1848; 
"The War with Mexico Reviewed," a Prize Essay, 1850; a volume of 
Discourses, 1854 ; a Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans, 1854. 
He has also been a contributor to various magazines, the " North Ameri- 
can Review," the "Christian Examiner," the " Christian Repository," and 
others. His commentaries, especially, are deserving of notice, since no 
similar works of any other American Unitarian author have been so 
well adapted to popular use in the Sunday school and home as have his. 

Mr. Livermore was associated with Rev. Levi W. Leonard, D.D., 
Rev. W. A. Whitwell, and Rev. Curtis Cutler, in compiling the book of 
"Christian Hymns," familiarly known as the "Cheshire Collection." 
It was first published in 1845, passed through as many as sixty editions, 
and came to be very widely used in Unitarian Churches. The principal 
labor of its preparation devolved upon Mr. Livermore, who wrote its 
Preface, and also contributed to it a hymn of his own, which has since 
passed into various Collections : " A Book of Hymns," by Messrs. Long- 
fellow and Johnson ; " Christian Worship," by Drs. Osgood and Farley ; 
Mr. Martineau's new " Hymns of Praise and Prayer," &c. Its simple, 
fervent lines, as we copy them here, were written immediately after their 



ABIEL ABBOT LI VERM ORE. 3 J 3 

author had attended a very impressive communion service, administered 
by Rev. James Walker, D.D., who had feelingly spoken of the sacred 
occasion as a spirit, a presence, a fragrance. 



THE LOVE OF THE BRETHREN. 

A HOLY air is breathing round, 

A savor from above ; 
Be every soul from sense unbound, 
Be every spirit love. 

O God, unite us heart to heart, 

In sympathy divine, 
That we be never drawn apart, 

And love nor thee nor thine. 

But, by the cross of Jesus taught, 
And all thy gracious word, 

Be nearer to each other brought, 
And nearer to our Lord. 



The first Unitarian Year-Book ever published in this country was 
printed in 1846. The idea and preparation of it were due to Mr. Liver- 
more. Since that time the denomination has issued a similar book each 
year ; and the Unitarians in England have thus been led to do the same. 
In the first number, just referred to, are several of Mr. Livermore's 
poems. Among them is the above hymn, and another is the following : — 



TO A SNOW-FLAKE. 

CO soft, so white, so cold, 

Thou seem'st a stranger here ; 
Cast in some skyey mould, — 
Methinks an angel's tear. 

So soft, so white, so cold, 
Keen crystal of the sky ; 

Formed, as we've oft been told, 
In mountains blue on high. 



314 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

So soft, so white, so cold, 
Poor wanderer of the air ; 

A scroll God's hand unrolled 
To give us lessons rare. 

So soft, so white, so cold, 
Thou white-winged bird of heaven, • 

Thy pinions broad unfurled, 
Thy feathers tempest-riven. 

So soft, so white, so cold, 
Come thou, like charity, 

And spread thy mantle's fold 
O'er earth's dark stains to lie. 

So soft, so white, so cold, 
Sweet flower of heaven ; 

No costly gem, no virgin gold 
Is worth thy lesson given. 



Here, also, are some early lines by Mr. Livermore, though we have 
not met them in any of the books : — 



SPIRITS CALLING. 

pOME, let us away, 

Far, far to the Day, — 
The spirits do pray, — 
Nor 'mid scenes so darkling and sad longer stay. 

Why linger on earth, 
Where living is dearth, 
Where dying is birth, 
But of heaven, sister spirit, how vital the breath ! 

Then fear not to die, — 
Farewell and a sigh, — 
Thy home is on high, 
To the bowers of bliss thou wilt joyfully fly. 



WILLIAM HENRY BURLEIGH. 315 

The body doth fall, 
The spirits do call, 
From this earthly pall, 
On the pinions of faith to Him, all in all. 

O God of the blest, 
Thy heavenly rest 
Speaks peace to the breast, 
When o'erwhelmed in grief and by fears oppressed. 

Then welcome the day 
Invites us away, — 
Our Father the stay, — 
To regions all bright with Eternity's ray. 

WILLIAM HENRY BURLEIGH. 

(1812-1871.) 

William H. Burleigh was born in Woodstock, Conn., Feb. 2, 1812, 
and was the fourth son of Rinaldo Burleigh, a graduate of Yale College 
and a successful classical teacher. On his mother's side he was a lineal 
descendant of Governor William Bradford, of the Mayflower. He grew 
up on his father's farm at Plainfield, whither the family removed, and here 
he inured himself to hard labor, went to the district school, and early 
cultivated his love of nature and his taste for poetry. He early espoused 
the Anti-slavery cause and the Temperance reform, and through all his 
subsequent life was actively and prominently identified with them both, 
while at the same time he pursued with marked success his literary 
labors. Removing to Pittsburgh, Pa., in 1837, he published the " Chris- 
tian Witness," and afterward the "Temperance Banner." In 1843 ne 
removed to Hartford, Conn., and edited an anti-slavery paper, " The 
Christian Freeman," which subsequently took the name of "Charter 
Oak." Going to Syracuse, N.Y., in 1849, ne served for five years as the 
agent of the New York State Temperance Society, acting as editor, 
lecturer, and secretary. During a part of this time he resided at Albany, 
where he conducted " The Prohibitionist." While here, he received 
from his warm friend, Governor Clark, an appointment as Harbor Master 
of New York. He accepted the position, fixing his residence at Brooklyn, 
where he died, March 18, 187 1. 

Mr. Burleigh's features and presence were indicative of his superior 



316 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

intellectual and moral power. He was an able and eloquent writer and 
speaker, and, like his well-known brother, Charles C. Burleigh, had the 
courage to champion even the most unpopular movement that com- 
mended itself to his reason and his sense of justice and right. Soon 
after his death, his wife, Mrs. Celia Burleigh, late pastor of the Unita- 
rian Church at Brooklyn, Conn., prepared and published a volume con- 
taining a sketch of his life and embracing a large number of poems 
which he had written during his brave and busy career. They all 
breathe a lofty spirit of humanity, and of trust in the eternal goodness ; 
reveal a soul that is strong and free, yet devout and childlike ; are rich 
with noble thought and refined sentiment, and are musical in their 
rhythm and glowing in their expression. From a volume that is so full 
of the best things, we could select very many pieces which we should 
like to transfer to our pages, but must content ourselves with the fol- 
lowing : — 

STILL WILL WE TRUST. 

OTILL will we trust, though earth seem dark and dreary, 

And the heart faint beneath his chastening rod ; 
Though rough and steep our pathway, worn and weary, 
Still will we trust in God ! 

Our eyes see dimly till by faith anointed, 
And our blind choosing brings us grief and pain ; 
Through Him alone who hath our way appointed 
We find our peace again. 

Choose for us, God ! nor let our weak preferring 
Cheat our poor souls of good thou hast designed ; 
Choose for us, God ! thy wisdom is unerring, 
And we are fools and blind. 

So from our sky the night shall furl her shadows, 
And day pour gladness through his golden gates ; 
Our rough path lead to flower-enamelled meadows, 
Where joy our coming waits. 

Let us press on in patient self-denial, 
Accept the hardship, shrink not from the loss : 
Our guerdon lies beyond the hour of trial, 
Our crown beyond the cross. 



WILLIAM HENRY BURLEIGH. 317 



''REJOICE IN THE LORD ALWAYS. 

/ T~ > HEIR brows should wear a holy light, 

Who front the heavens serenely bright ; 
And gladness should their steps attend, 
Who walk with God as with a friend. 

For every footfall of their way 
But brings them nearer to the day 
That knows no night, and to the joy 
Nor grief can mar nor sin alloy. 

Fixed in the path that he hath trod, 
Their lives are hid with Christ in God ; 
And dwell secure from every harm, 
Encircled by the Father's arm. 

Behind the cloud, above the storm, 
His sunlight lingers soft and warm ; 
And even through midnight's gloomiest pall 
Some beams of mercy gently fall. 

However dark the frown of fate, 
God will his promise vindicate, 
And in his own good time and way 
Bring in the full and perfect day, 

In whose glad light shall disappear 
All that perplexed and troubled here, 
And show the weary path they trod, 
As the one path whose end is — God ! 



BLESSED ARE THEY THAT MOURN.' 

C\ DEEM not that earth's crowning bliss 

Is found in joy alone, 
For sorrow, bitter though it be, 
Hath blessings all its own : 



3*3 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

From lips divine, like healing balm, 
To hearts oppressed and torn, 

This heavenly consolation fell, — 
" Blessed are they that mourn ! " 

As blossoms smitten by the rain 
Their sweetest odors yield ; 

As where the plough-share deepest strikes, 
Rich harvests crown the field, — 

So to the hopes by sorrow crushed 
A nobler faith succeeds ; 

And life, by trials furrowed, bears 

• The fruit of loving deeds. 

Who never mourned, hath never known 

What treasures grief reveals : 
The sympathies that humanize, 

The tenderness that heals, 
The power to look within the veil 

And learn the heavenly lore, 
The keyword to life's mysteries, 

So dark to us before. 

How rich and sweet and full of strength 

Our human spirits are, 
Baptized into the sanctities 

Of suffering and of prayer ! 
Supernal wisdom, love divine, 

Breathe through the lips which said, 
" O blessed are the souls that mourn, 

They shall be comforted." 



NEEDED BLESSINGS. 

\X 7E ask not that our path be always bright, 
But for thy aid to walk therein aright ; 
That thou, O Lord, through all its devious way 
Will give us strength sufficient to our day, 
For this, for this we pray. 



WILLIAM HENRY BURLEIGH. 319 

Not for the fleeting joys that earth bestows, 
Not for exemption from its many woes ; 
But that, come joy or woe, come good or ill, 
With childlike faith we trust thy guidance still, 
And do thy holy will. 

Teach us, dear Lord, to find the latent good 
That sorrow yields, when rightly understood ; 
And for the frequent joy that crowns our days, 
Help us with grateful hearts our hymns to raise, 
Of thankfulness and praise. 

Thou knowest all our needs, and will supply : 
No veil of darkness hides us from thine eye, 
Nor vainly, from the depths, on thee we call ; 
Thy tender love, that breaks the tempter's thrall, 
Folds and encircles all. 

Through sorrow and through loss, by toil and prayer, 
Saints won the starry crowns which now they wear ; 
And by the bitter ministry of pain, 
Grievous and harsh, but O, not sent in vain, 
Found their eternal gain. 

If it be ours, like them, to suffer loss, 
Give grace, as unto them, to bear our cross, 
Till, victors over the besetting sin, 
We too thy perfect peace shall enter in, 
And crowns of glory win. 



FAITH'S REPOSE. 

"pATHER, beneath thy sheltering wing 

In sweet security we rest ! 
And fear no evil earth can bring, 
In life, in death, supremely blest. 

For life is good, whose tidal flow 
The motions of thy will obeys ; 

And death is good, that makes us know 
The life divine that all things sways. 



320 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

And good it is to bear the cross, 
. And so thy perfect peace to win ; 
And naught is ill, nor brings us loss, 
Nor works us harm, save only sin. 

Redeemed from this, we ask no more, 
But trust the love that saves to guide ; 

The grace, that yields so rich a store, 
Will grant us all we need beside. 



A PSALM OF NIGHT. 

"EVADES from the west the farewell light, 

Flung backward by the setting sun, 
And silence deepens, as the night 

Steals with its solemn shadows on. 
Gathers the soft, refreshing dew, 

On spiring grass and floweret stems, 
And lo ! the everlasting blue 

Is radiant with a thousand gems. 

Not only doth the voiceless day 

Thy loving-kindness, Lord, proclaim, 
But night, with its sublime array 

Of worlds, doth magnify thy name ; 
Yea, while adoring seraphim 

Before thee bend the willing knee, 
From every star a choral hymn 

Goes up unceasingly to thee ! 

Day unto day doth utter speech, 

And night to night thy voice makes known ; 
Through all the earth, where thought may reach, 

Is heard the glad and solemn tone ; 
And worlds beyond the farthest star 

Whose light hath reached a human eye, 
Catch the high anthem from afar 

That rolls along immensity. 



WILLIAM HENRY BURLEIGH. 32 1 

O Holy Father ! 'mid the calm 

And stillness of this evening hour, 
We too would lift our solemn psalm 

To praise thy goodness and thy power ; 
For over us, as over all, 

Thy tender mercies still extend. 
Nor vainly shall the contrite call 

On thee, our Father and our Friend. 

Kept by thy goodness through the day, 

Thanksgiving to thy name we pour ; 
Night o'er us with its stars, we pray 

Thy love to guard us evermore ! 
In grief console, in gladness bless, 

In darkness guide, in sickness cheer, 
Till, perfected in righteousness, 

Our souls before thy throne appear. 



THE HARVEST-CALL 

A BIDE not in the realm of dreams, 
O man, however fair it seems, 
Where drowsy airs thy powers repress 
In languors of sweet idleness. 

Nor linger in the misty past, 
Entranced in visions vague and vast ; 
But with clear eye the present scan, 
And hear the call of God and man. 

That call, though many-voiced, is one, 
With mighty meanings in each tone ; 
Through sob and laughter, shriek and prayer, 
Its summons meet thee everywhere. 

Think not In sleep to fold thy hands, 
Forgetful of thy Lord's commands ; 
From duty's claims no life is free, — 
Behold, to-day hath need of thee ! 



322 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Look up ! the wide extended plain 
Is billowy with its ripened grain, 
And on the summer winds are rolled 
Its waves of emerald and gold. 

Thrust in thy sickle ! nor delay 
The work that calls for thee to-day ; 
To-morrow, if it come, will bear 
Its own demands of toil and care. 

The present hour allots thy task : 
For present strength and patience ask, 
And trust his love whose sure supplies 
Meet all thy needs as they arise. 

Lo ! the broad fields with harvests white 
Thy hands to strenuous toil invite ; 
And he who labors and believes 
Shall reap reward of ample sheaves. 

Up, for the time is short ; and soon 
The morning sun will climb to noon. 
Up ! ere the herds, with trampling feet 
Out-running thine, shall spoil the wheat. 

While the day lingers, do thy best ! 
Full soon the night will bring its rest ; 
And, duty done, that rest shall be 
Full of beatitudes to thee. 



ORDINATION HYMN. 

Written for the ordination of Mr. J. W. Chadwick, as pastor of the Second Unitarian 
Church, in Brooklyn, N.Y., 1864. 

"PATHER, thy servant waits to do thy will! 

Called to thy work, O, clothe him with thy might, 
And with this threefold grace his spirit fill, — 
Love, liberty, and light ! 



SAMUEL DOWSE ROBBINS. 323 

With love, for the dear souls that thou hast made, 
And for the truth which only maketh free ; 
So, with all patience, faithful, unafraid, 
He shall be true to thee. 

With liberty, that where thy Spirit leads, 
Follows, whatever faith it leaves behind, 
And wears no fetters formed from olden creeds, 
That blight whate'er they bind. 

With light, an effluence of the Life Divine, 
Before which error falls and falsehood dies, 
Leading his spirit joyfully to thine, 
And upward to the skies. 

Thus, furnished for his work, O Father, stand 
Close by his side to give that work' success ; 
And may the good seed, scattered by his hand, 
Bear fruits of righteousness ! 



SAMUEL DOWSE ROBBINS. 
(1812.) 

Rev. Samuel D. Robbins, brother of Rev. Chandler Robbins, D.D., 
a sketch of whom has been given on a previous page, was born in Lynn, 
Mass., March 7, 1812. He graduated at the Divinity School, at Cam- 
bridge, in 1833, and was ordained pastor of the Unitarian Church in 
Lynn, his native town, Nov. 13, of the same year. He became the min- 
ister of the Unitarian Society in Chelsea in 1840 ; removed to Framing- 
ham, and assumed the charge of the church of the same faith in that 
place in 1859, and was next settled in Wayland in 1867. In 1873 he gave 
up his parish in Wayland, and retired to Concord, where he still resides. 

Mr. Robbins received the degree of A.M. from Harvard College in 
1865. He has published but little. Yet, from time to time, he has sent 
to the magazines and papers numerous hymns and sacred poems of great 
excellence. They are full of devout and tender sentiment, are finely 
expressive of Christian trust and love, and have met a warm response in 
the hearts of many readers. Such is the first piece which we here copy, 
and which was frequently chanted by the choir of one of the churches 



324 SOJVGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

that have been under the author's pastoral care. Several others of 
those which follow it are to be found in various hymn-books, while the 
rest have been taken from the " Monthly Magazine " or religious week- 
lies, in which they were originally printed, or have been kindly furnished 
us by the writer himself, at our solicitation. 



THE MASTER. 

'"PHOU art our Master ! thou of God the Son, 

Of man the Friend ; 
By thee alone the victory is won ; 
Our souls defend ! 

Thou art the Master ! let us love thy word ; 

Thy Spirit give ; 
Let us obey thee as our risen Lord, 

Obey and live. 

Thou art our Master! with thy cross, thy crown, 

Thou Crucified ! 
Now from thy starry throne look gently down, 

With us abide ! 

Thou art our Master ! through the narrow way 

Thou once didst tread, 
Lead thy disciples upward to the day, 

Thou living Head ! 

Thou art our Master ! at thy feet we cast 

Our burdens now. 
The yoke of Love we take ! O, bind us fast ! 

To thee we bow. 

Thou art our Master ! through our earthly home 

No guide but thee ! 
And when thy kingdom unto us shall come, 

Our servant be ! * 

* Luke xii. 27* 



SAMUEL DOWSE ROB BINS. 325 



The next four hymns may be found in the " Hymn and Tune Book," 
published by the American Unitarian Association. 



THE DAY. 

n^HOU art my morning, God of light ! 

Thy dayspring wakes my soul j 
Thy radiant smile subdues the night, 
And shall the day control. 

And thou my noon, O Father ! art ; 

Thy central warmth I own : 
The glowing fulness of my heart 

Pulses from thee alone. 

And thou my evening ! let me rest, 

When life declines, in thee ; 
As sinks the sun into the west, 

Thou wilt my guardian be. 

A brighter morning round thy throne 
Shall dawn with light more fair ; 

Father ! I trust in thee alone : 
Thou wilt awake me there. 



THE COMPASS. 

Several mistakes in this hymn, as it is printed in the " Hymn and Tune Book," are here 
corrected by Mr. Robbins. 

HTHOU art, O God ! my East. In thee I dawned ; 

Within me ever let thy dayspring shine ; 
Then, for each night of sorrow I have mourned, 
I'll bless thee, Father, since it seals me thine. 

Thou art, O God ! my North. My trembling soul, 
Like a charmed needle, points to thee alone ; 

Each wave of time, each storm of life, shall roll 
My trusting spirit forward to thy throne. 



326 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Thou art, God ! my South. Thy fervent love 
Perennial verdure o'er my life hath shed ; 

And constant sunshine, from thy heart above, 
With wine and oil thy grateful child hath fed. 

Thou art, O God ! my West. Into thy arms, 
Glad as the setting sun, may I decline ; 

Baptized from earthly stains and sin's alarms, 
Reborn, arise in thy new heavens to shine. 



COMMUNION HYMN. 

O AVIOUR, when thy bread we break, 
When thy " cup of blessing " take, 
Fill our souls with life like thine, — 
Thou our bread, and thou our wine. 

For us all, thy feast is spread ; 
For us all, thy blood was shed ; 
Thou didst die that all might live ; 
For all sin thyself didst give. 

Lowly we, around thy board, 

Hold communion with our Lord ; 

In our midst thy form we see, 

And through faith would feed on thee. 

Let our guilt be washed away, 
Let our darkness turn to day ; 
May thy smile upon us rest, 
W T hile we lean upon thy breast ! 

Should thy cross upon us press, 
We shall feel our sorrows less ; 
Should thy yoke upon us bear, 
Thou wilt every burden share. 

And when here on earth no more 
Round thy table we may draw, 
In thy Father's kingdom we, 
Through thy grace, would sup with thee. 



SAMUEL DOWSE ROBBINS. Z 2 7 



SUNSET. 

"p\OWN toward the twilight drifting, 
"^ Hover now the shadows fast ; 
Lo ! the evening clouds are rifting, 
And the storm is overpast. 

One by one the stars are peeping 
Gently from the azure deeps ; 

Loving angels round are keeping 

Watch and ward while Nature sleeps. 

Memory to the heart is calling 
Happy visions that had fled ; 

While, like dew around me falling, 
Comes the presence of the dead. 

Hush ! the solemn midnight tolleth : 
Morn is breaking from on high ; 

God away the darkness rolleth, — 
Light ! and immortality ! 



HALF-CENTURY CELEBRATION. 

Written for the Half-Century Service of the Second Church in Lynn, Mass., 1873. 

f~\ THOU, who changest not though centuries roll ! 
^-"^ Of all we are or have, the Sun and Soul ! 
Thy truths sublime the generations keep 
Within thy temples, though the Fathers sleep. 

We bless thee for the light which streams each day 
Fresh from thy mind, to guide us on our way ; 
We thank thee for the love that flows so free 
Forth from thy heart to lead us up to thee. 

Thine are the spirits of the pure and just, 
Who walked among us, true to every trust ; 
The fragrance of their memories shall rise 
As incense with our daily sacrifice. 



328 SOJVGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Our Father ! on that happy heavenly shore, 
Where separation shall be known no' more, 
Safely enfolded on thy faithful breast, 
Thy children all shall share thy holy rest. 



ORDINATION HYMN. 

TT7TTH sandals gemmed with morning dew, 

Forth to the field of promise go, 
With footsteps firm and vision true ; 

The seamless mantle round thee thrown ! 

With eye raised calmly to the dawn, 
Accept the Father's light alone ; 

And he whose coming brings the morn 
Shall with his being fill thine own. 

Fling with a master's hand the seed 

Broadcast with faith o'er hill and plain j 

For God the harvest-time shall speed, 
And ripen all his golden grain. 

Fear not the tares ! they shall not spoil 
The richer plantage of the Lord, 

But draw the poison from the soil, 

And leave the sheaves for thy reward. 

The young lead gently, and the old 
Guide with his rod and staff above, 

W T here the good Shepherd all shall fold 
At nightfall in his perfect love. 



BACA. 

From the " Monthly Magazine," October, 1869. 

'T^HROUGH Baca's vale my way is cast, 

Its thorns my feet have trod ; 
But I have found the well at last, 
And quench my thirst in God. 



SAMUEL DOWSE ROB BINS. 329 

My roof is but an humble home 

Hid in the wilderness ; 
But o'er me springs the eternal dome, 

For he my dwelling is. 

My raiment rude and lowly seems, 

All travel-stained and old ; 
But with his brightest morning beams 

He doth my soul enfold. 

How scantily is my table spread ! 

With tears my cup o'erflows : 
But he is still my daily bread, — 

No want my spirit knows. 

Hard is the stony pillow bed • 

How broken is my rest ! 
On him I lean my aching head, 

And sleep upon his breast. 

For faith can make the desert bloom ; 

And, through the vistas dim, 
Love sees, in sunlight or in gloom, 

All pathways lead to him. 



The following is from the "Monthly Magazine," September, 1873 : — 
EUTHANASIA. 

" Let me go, for the day breaketh." 

/ T S HE waves of light are drifting from off the heavenly shore, 

The shadows all are lifting away for evermore ; 
Truth, like another morning, is beaming on my way : 
I bless the Power that poureth in the coming of the day. 
I feel a light within me that years can never bring : 
My heart is full of blossoming, it yearns to meet the spring. 
Love fills my soul in all its deeps, and harmony divine 
Is sweetly sounding from above a symphony sublime : 



330 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

The earth is robed in richer green, the sky in brighter blue ; 
And, with no cloud to intervene, God's smile is shining through. 
I hear the immortal harps that ring before the rainbow throne, 
And a spirit from the heart of God is bearing up my own. 
In silence on the Olivet of prayer my being bends, 
Till in the orison of heaven my voice seraphic blends. 



THE SNOW-LINE. 

TV/TUTE in the studio the artist stands, 

The chisel fallen from his palsied hands ; 
The inspiration from his eye has flown ; 
Cold lies before him the unsculptured stone : 
But deep within his patient genius waits 
For God to open the immortal gates. 
No change can ever reach, no darkness dim, 
The love and light that are enshrined in him. 
Oh, deem not then that time's apparent flight 
The fruitage of the spirit e'er can blight ; 
The brow is silvered and the step is slow, 
But thought is clear, and heart is all aglow : 
For He who breathed himself into the soul 
Hath all our seasons under his control, 
And, while without old age a winter seems. 
Within perennial summer on it gleams. 



"LEAD ME." 

From the " Christian Register," Dec. 20, 1873. 

IV/TY Father, take my hand, for I am prone 

To danger, and I fear to go alone. 
I trust thy guidance. Father, take my hand ; 
Lead thy child safely through the desert land. 
The way is dark before me ; take my hand, 
For light can only come at thy command. 



FREDERIC AUGUSTUS WHITNEY, 33* 

Clinging to thy dear love, no doubt I know, 
That love will cheer my way where'er I go. 
Father, the storm is breaking o'er me wild, 
I feel its bitterness, protect thy child. 
The tempest-clouds are flying through the air, 
Oh, take my hand, and save me from despair. 
Father, as I ascend the craggy steep 
That leads me to thy temple, let me keep 
My hand in thine, so I can, conquer time 
And by thine aiding to thy bosom climb. 
Father, I feel the damp upon my brow, 
The chill of death is falling on me now. 
Soon from earth's flitting shadows I must part; 
My Father, take my hand, thou hast my heart. 

FREDERIC AUGUSTUS WHITNEY. 

(1812.) 

Rev. Frederic A. Whitney, son of Rev. Peter Whitney and Jane 
(Lincoln) Whitney, was born in Quincy, Mass., Sept. 18, 1812. His 
father, grandfather, and great-grandfather were ministers, each, nearly 
fifty years and until death, of the First Congregational Liberal Churches 
of Quincy, Northboro', and Petersham, respectively. His brother, Rev. 
George Whitney, was one of the Unitarian ministers in Roxburv. 

While a student in Harvard College, he was also a mathematical 
tutor in the private school of William Wells, of Cambridge ; and on gradu- 
ating, in 1833, he was associated for two years, as instructor, with Stephen 
M. Weld, in a classical school at Jamaica Plain. He graduated at the 
Cambridge Divinity School in 183S, and was afterward employed for 
some time by the American Unitarian Association in missionary service 
in Massachusetts, and in the South and West. He took charge of the 
First Congregational Church at Brighton, near Boston, in April, 1843, 
and remained its pastor for sixteen years. He still resides there, often 
preaching in different places, and steadily pursuing his favorite his- 
torical and literary studies. He was married, Jan. 11, 1853, to Elizabeth 
Perkins, daughter of the late William Perkins Matchett, of Boston. 

The titles of most of his numerous published works are given in the 
large and admirably arranged catalogue, which, with a dictionary of 
pseudonymes appended, he prepared, in 1S72, for the Brighton Public 



332 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Library. Of these we may mention, An Historical Sketch of the Old 
Church at Quincy, Mass. ; Biographical Sketches of Josiah Quincy, Jr., 
and of John Hancock ; Biography of James Holton, founder of the Hol- 
ton Library ; Oration at the Dedication of the Soldiers' Monument at 
Brighton, with an historical Appendix ; Biographical Sketches of Sol- 
diers who fell in the late War ; Address at the Consecration of Ever- 
green Cemetery, with an historical Appendix ; Discourses at the public 
funerals of Madam Susanna Park Champney, who died in her 95th year, 
and Edward Sparhawk, who died in his 97th, the genealogy of the 
Champney and Park families being given in connection with the first of 
these published addresses ; A Treatise on Temperance ; Discourse on 
the Early New England Home, and Sermon on the death of little chil- 
dren ; Nine Annual Reports as President of the Trustees of the Public 
Library; thirteen Annual Reports as Chairman of the School Com- 
mittee ; Reports as Secretary of the Middlesex Sunday School Society ; 
various articles in periodicals and reviews, &c. All these catalogues, 
biographies, genealogies, sketches, and reports abound in evidence of 
the most conscientious and painstaking care in their preparation, show 
on the part of the writer a habit of patient research, a remarkable accu- 
racy of statement, and a wide acquaintance with books and local history, 
and altogether form a very valuable contribution to the department of 
literature to which they belong. 

Mr. Whitney has also written some very excellent hymns, chiefly for 
ordination, installation, and dedication services, and other like occa- 
sions. Of these we select three. 



"I HAVE SET WATCHMEN UPON THY WALLS." 

Written for the installation of Rev. William Parsons Lunt, as colleague pastor with 
Rev. Peter Whitney, over the First Congregational Unitarian Church, Quincy, June 3, 
1835- 

A LL-SEEING One ! whose presence fills 
The glorious earth thy children tread, 
Unseen, the sacred shrine be near, 

To which our gathering steps have led. 
The sacred shrine, 
Great God, be near, 
And, as we bend, the offering hear. 

We turn to thee, in humble trust, 

With prayer and praise, our Heavenly Friend, 
That on this hour thy smiles may rest, 

Thy choicest influence may descend. 



FREDERIC AUGUSTUS WHITNEY. 333 

Oh, let thy smiles, 
Great God, here rest, — 
Thy blessing, and we shall be blessed. 

Lo, where thy elder servant stood 

Through changing years, there still he stands ; 
To aid him in the sacred cause, 

Another comes with youthful hands. 
Him aid, Great God, 
That sacred cause 
Pursuing still by Heaven's own laws. 

Oh, bless him, Father, bless him now, 

With faith and truth and hope and peace ; 
And as his years shall onward roll, 
Let not thy saving mercy cease. 
As years shall roll, 
Great God, increase 
His ardor and his usefulness. 

And when at last he binds his sheaves, 
His harvest labors o'er and blest, 
The golden grain, Pure One, receive, 
And call the reaper to his rest. 
The golden grain, 
Great God, receive, 
As Pastors flocks and temples leave. 

"AND IN THIS PLACE WILL I GIVE PEACE. 1 ' 

Written for the dedication of the new church edifice of the First Congregational 
Unitarian Church, Watertown, Sept. 7, 1836. 

'T^O Thee, Great Spirit, by whose will 

Our labors have been blest, 
Whose arm doth shield from daily ill, 

Whose eye doth guard our rest, — 
We consecrate this chosen place 

An offering to thy name ; 
Here seek henceforth thy needed grace, 

Thy glorious truth proclaim. 



334 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Nor only here the accepted strain 

Shall rise, since not alone 
At Sychar's mount, or Judah's fane, 

Thou, Father, shalt be known : 
But Nature is a temple now, 

And all, who worship thee, 
In truth must worship, while they bow 

The soul, as bow the knee. 

Their service such, Pure One, attend 

Thy children's prayer above : 
In gladness, grief, temptation, send 

Thy counsel, strength, and love. 
Guide thou his steps, who leads our way 

To thee, and truth divine ; 
Let all his words thy will obey, 

And all his life be thine. 

As Israel came to dedicate 

The latter house of old, 
While holy priests were called to wait, 

And clouds of incense rolled, — 
Thy glory sanctified the hour, 

Thy Spirit warmed each heart : 
Thus ever, Lord, in love and power, 

Thy Spirit here impart. 



"PRAY YE THEREFORE THE LORD OF THE 
HARVEST." 

Written for the Anniversary Exercises of the Theological School, Harvard University, 
July 18, 1838. 

/^\F old, on priest and prophet came 
^^^ Thy Spirit's light, thy Spirit's power ; 
Of old the altar's kindled flame 

Declared thy blessing on the hour. 

Thy servants, Lord, 

That power require, 
That light beam ever o'er their way ; 



JONES VERY. 335 

„ On waiting hearts 
A holier fire 
Than fell on Carmel fall this day ! 

In death as faithful pastors sleep, 

On us their mantling spirit spread ; 
While whitened harvests still we reap, 

Where lived and toiled the sainted dead. 

Be ever nigh, 

All grace impart, 
To teach thy truth, to speed thy will : 

Lord, purify 

The worldly heart ; 
The empty, famished spirit fill. 

Then bear our Leader's standard high, 

Wide let it wave o'er land and sea ; 
Till tongues shall cease, till time shall die, 
Its blessed folds, unfurled and free, 

Be found where care 

And doubt and strife, 
Where sin and death their shadows fling ; 

Who wins shall wear 

A crown of life, 
While heavenly choirs their paean sing. 

JONES VERY. 
(1813.) 

Rev. Jones Very was born in Salem, Mass., Aug. 28, 1813. His 
parents were Captain Jones Very, shipmaster, and Lydia Very. The 
father and mother were cousins, the former being the son of Captain 
Isaac Very, and the latter the daughter of Captain Samuel Very. In 
1823 and 1824 the subject of our sketch accompanied his father on the 
last two voyages which the latter made to Europe. He graduated at 
Harvard College in 1836, with the second honors of Commencement Day ; 
served as Greek tutor in that institution for the two following years, was 
approbated as a preacher by the Cambridge Association in 1843, an( l since 



336 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FATTH. 

that time has continued in that vocation, although without a pastoral 
charge. He resides in Salem with his two sisters, Frances Eliza and 
Lydia Louisa Ann, and devotes his time principally to literary pursuits. 

In 1839 he published a volume of " Essays and Poems," and from 
then until now has contributed a large number of his productions, chiefly 
poetical, to the " Salem Gazette," the " Salem Observer," the " Christian 
Register," and the "Monthly Magazine." From this volume and these 
papers or periodicals have been taken the various hymns, which, with cer- 
tain alterations made by him or by the compilers, have been introduced 
with his name into the Collections. His verse is characterized by a 
remarkable purity and delicacy of thought, and great ease and simplicity 
of style, while it breathes the spirit of a sweet and loving trust, and is 
pervaded by a fine, subtle sense of the enduring realities. In very many 
of his poems there is the unmistakable element or master-touch that 
belongs to the higher order of genius. A writer has described them as 
"indicating an appreciative love of nature and a deep religious feeling, 
with a tendency towards mysticism." There is great need of a new and 
full edition of the offerings of this retiring and unobtrusive, but gifted and 
spiritual bard of Salem. 

In copying some of the hymns and sonnets contained in his " Essays 
and Poems," we first present three of them in the altered form which 
the writer himself authorized or approved to adapt them to church use,* 
without any other omission or change which compilers may have since 
made and perpetuated. In this form they first appeared, we believe, in 
the u Book of Hymns," except that the headings are here given as they 
are found in "Essays and Poems." 



THE SON. 

"EjWTHER ! I wait thy word. The sun doth stand 

Beneath the mingling line of night and day, 
A listening servant, waiting thy command, 
To roll rejoicing on its silent way. 

The tongue of time abides the appointed hour, 
Till on our ear its solemn warnings fall ; 

The heavy cloud withholds the pelting shower, — 
Then every drop speeds onward at thy call. 

The bird reposes on the yielding bough, 

With breast unswollen by the tide of song ; — 

So does my spirit wait thy presence now, 
To pour thy praise in quickening life along. 



JONES VERY. 337 



THE SPIRIT-LAND. 



T^ATHER ! Thy wonders do not singly stand, 

Nor far removed where feet have seldom strayed ; 
Around us ever lies the enchanted land, 

In marvels rich to thine own sons displayed. 

In finding thee are all things round us found ; 

In losing thee are all things lost beside ; 
Ears have we, but in vain sweet voices sound, 

And to our eyes the vision is denied. 

Open our eyes that we that world may see ! 

Open our ears that we thy voice may hear ! 
And in the spirit-land may ever be, 

And feel thy presence with us always near. 

No more to wander 'mid the things of time, 
No more to suffer death or earthly change ; 

But, with the Christian's joy and faith sublime, 
Through all thy vast, eternal scenes to range. 



CHANGE. 

"CW.THER, there is no change to live with thee, 
Save that in Christ I grow from day to day ; 
In each new word I hear, each thing I see, 
I but rejoicing hasten on my way. 

The morning comes, with blushes overspread, 
And I, new-wakened, find a morn within ; 

And in its modest dawn around me shed, 

Thou hear'st the prayer and the ascending hymn. 

Hour follows hour, the lengthening shades descend, 
Yet they could never reach as far as me, 

Did not thy love its kind protection lend, 

That I, thy child, might sleep in peace with thee. 



33$ SOA r GS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

The next four pieces are also from the "Essays and Poems." The 
first one of these, with the exception of the fourth stanza, appeared in 
the "Book of Hymns," and has since passed into various other Collec- 
tions, and has become a favorite with many of our churches. We pre- 
sent this exquisitely beautiful hymn in its entire form. 



THE PRAYER. 

T17ILT Thou not visit me ? 

The plant beside me feels Thy gentle dew; 
Each blade of grass I see 
From Thy deep earth its quickening moisture drew. 

Wilt Thou not visit me ? 
Thy morning calls on me with cheering tone ; 

And every hill and tree 
Lend but one voice, the voice of Thee alone. 

Come ! for I need Thy love, 
More than the flower the dew, or grass the rain ; 

Come, like Thy holy dove, 
And let me in Thy sight rejoice to live again. 

I will not hide from them, 
When Thy storms come, though fierce may be their 
wrath ; 

But bow with leafy stem, 
And strengthened follow on Thy chosen path. 

Yes, Thou wilt visit me ; 
Nor plant nor tree Thy eye delights so well, 

As when, from sin set free, 
Man's spirit comes with Thine in peace to dwell. 



. BEAUTY. 

I" GAZED upon thy face, — and beating life 
Once stilled its sleepless pulses in my breast, 
And every thought whose being was a strife 
Each in its silent chamber sank to rest : 



JONES VERY. 339 

I was not, save it were a thought of thee ; 

The world was but a spot where thou hadst trod ; 
From every star thy glance seemed fixed on me : 

Almost I love thee better than my God. 
And still I gaze, — but 'tis a holier thought 

Than that in which my spirit lived before, 
Each star a purer ray of love has caught, 

Earth wears a lovelier robe than then it wore, 
And every lamp that burns around thy shrine 
Is fed with fire whose fountain is divine. 



THE NEW BIRTH. 

"T^IS a new life ; — thoughts move not as they did 

With slow uncertain steps across my mind, 
In thronging haste fast pressing on they bid 

The portals open to the viewless wind 
That comes not save when in the dust is laid 

The crown of pride that gilds each mortal brow, 
And from before man's vision melting fade 

The heavens and earth ; — their walls are falling now. 
Fast crowding on, each thought asks utterance strong ; 

Storm-lifted waves swift rushing to the shore, 
On from the sea they send their shouts along, 

Back through the cave-worn rocks their thunders roar; 
And I a child of God, by Christ made free, 
Start from death's slumbers to Eternity. 

THE PRESENCE. 

[" SIT within my room, and joy to find 

That Thou who always lov'st art with me here, 
That I am never left by Thee behind, 

But by Thyself Thou keep'st me ever near ; 
The fire burns brighter when with Thee I look, 

And seems a kinder servant sent to me ; 
With gladder heart I read Thy holy book, 
Because Thou art the eyes by which I see ; 



340 SOA'GS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

This aged chair, that table, watch and door 
Around in ready service ever wait ; 

Nor can I ask of Thee a menial more, 
To fill the measure of my large estate, 

For Thou Thyself, with all a father's care, 
Where'er I turn, art ever with me there. 



The pieces which follow are not contained in the " Essays and Poems," 
but are of later origin. 

THE LIGHT WITHIN. 

From the " Book of Hymns." 

T SAW on earth another light 

Than that which lit mine eye 
Come forth, as from the soul within, 
And from a higher sky. 

Its beams still shone unclouded on, 

When, in the distant west, 
The sun I once had known had sunk 

Forever to his rest. 

And on I walked, though dark the night, 

Nor rose his orb by day ; 
As one to whom a surer guide 

Was pointing out the way. 

'Twas brighter far than noonday's beam, 

It shone from God within, 
And lit, as by a lamp from heaven, 

The world's dark track of sin. 



AS YE SOW, SO SHALL YE REAP 

From the " Book of Hymns." 

r ~PHE bud will soon become a flower, 



The flower become a seed ; 
Then seize, O youth, the present hour, 
Of that thou hast most need. 



JONES VERY. 341 

Do thy best always, — do it now, — 

For in the present time, 
As in the furrows of a plough, 

Fall seeds of good or crime. 

The sun and rain will ripen fast 

Each seed that thou hast sown ; 
And every act and word at last 

By its own fruit be known. 

And soon the harvest of thy toil 

Rejoicing thou shalt reap ; 
Or o'er thy wild, neglected soil 

Go forth in shame to weep. 



THE HOURS. 

From Bulfinch's " Harp and Cross." 

r I ^HE minutes have their trusts as they go by 

To bear His love who wings their viewless flight ; 
To Him they bear their record as they fly, 

And never from their ceaseless round alight. 
Rich with the life thou liv'st they come to me : 

Oh, may I all that life to others show, 
That they from strife may rise and rest in Thee, 

And all Thy peace in Christ by me may know, — 
Then shall the morning call me from my rest, 

With joyful hope that I thy child may live ; 
And when the evening comes, 'twill make me blest, 

To know that Thou wilt peaceful slumbers give, 
Such as Thou dost to weary laborers send, 
Whose sleep from Thee doth with the dews descend. 



Copies of the following hymns, not all of which have been published 
before, have been received from the writer as an additional contribution 
to this volume. The fine closing piece, " The Coming of the Lord," had 
been just finished as the manuscript was placed in our hands. 



342 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



THE DEW. 

"HPTS not the copious rains alone, 

Which bless the parched soil ; 
The gentle dews, that nightly fall, 
Reward the sower's toil. 

Unseen, unheard, the dews descend, 

Like slumber on the mind ; 
And on the thirsty hills and fields 

A blessing leave behind. 

In the cool stillness of the night, 

The drooping plants revive ; 
The grass, and every tender herb, 

With their sweet influence thrive. 

See, lifted on each pointed blade, 
How bright the dewdrops shine ! 

And learn, in trusting, humble faith, 
To trace the Hand Divine. 

That, though no clouds their fulness drop, 

In answer to our prayer, 
Still we may own, from day to day, 

Our God for us doth care. 



THE EFFICACY OF A MOTHER'S PRAYER. 

"DRAY, mother, for thy prayer may keep 

Thy child in virtue's way ; 
A blessed harvest he shall reap, 
For whom thou oft dost pray. 

'Twill bless him in his early days, 

And consecrate his home ; 
'Twill bless him 'mid the world's rough ways, 

And wheresoe'er he roam. 



JOA T ES VERY. 343 

Through manhood e'en to life's last close, 

Thy prayers shall counsel, guide ; 
Keep pure his heart from deadly foes, 

From hatred, lust, and pride. 

Pray, mother, for thy prayer has power 

To help, to save, thy child ; 
To give him strength in evil hour, 

By pleasure's voice beguiled. 

And pray, O pray, when, erring, frail, 

Thy feeble child may fall ; 
Thy prayer, thy faith may still prevail, 

And back to life recall. 

For God the prayer of faith doth hear, 

And answer from on high ; 
To those who seek him, he is near, 

Nor will their quest deny. 



OUR SOLDIERS' GRAVES. 

CTREW all their graves with flowers, 

They for their country died ; 
And freely gave their lives for ours, 
Their country's hope and pride. 

Bring flowers to deck each sod, 

Where rests their sacred dust ; 
Though gone from earth, they live to God, 

Their everlasting trust ! 

Fearless, in Freedom's cause 
They suffered, toiled, and bled ; 

And died, obedient to her laws, 
By truth and conscience led. 

Oft as the year returns, 

She o'er their graves shall weep ; 
And wreathe with flowers their funeral urns, 

Their memory dear to keep. 



344 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Bring flowers of early spring 
To deck each soldier's grave, 

And summer's fragrant roses bring, — 
They died our land to save. 



THE PROMISE OF THE SPIRIT. 

TT7HEN from their sight the Saviour went, 

To dwell no more upon the earth, 
The Spirit to his own he sent, 

And souls were born of heavenly birth. 

He left them not as orphans here, 
To mourn their sad and bitter fate ; 

But gave them promises to cheer, 

While in the world, their lonely state. 

" My Father greater is than I, 

I will not leave you here alone ; 
But send the Spirit from on high, 

And you, in me, shall still be one." 

Sweet promise to the mourning Bride, 
The Church, that mourns her absent Lord ! 

While in his love we still abide, 
He will fulfil his parting word. 

Henceforth no more let Christians mourn ; 

They hear again the Bridegroom's voice, 
From heavenly heights of glory borne, 

Which bids them with himself rejoice. 

So faith, and joy, and peace, and love 

Become our heritage below ; 
Descending, like the holy dove, 

On all who Christ's obedience know. 



JONES VERY. 345 



CHILDHOOD'S SONGS. 

T HEAR again my childhood's songs, 

When life was bright and fair ; 
Their melodies my spirit hears, 
They float upon the air. 

In far-off realms I seem to stray, 
'Mid childhood's early flowers ; 

And all my weariness forget, 
Amid its happy bowers. 

My mother's voice, it comes again 
So clear, and pure, and sweet, 

I seem a little child to be, 
And listening at her feet. 

They cheer and soothe my sinking heart, 
. As if from heaven they came ; 
In manhood, as in youthful hours, 
Their power is still the same. 

A power to purify, and bless, 

And thus my soui prepare ; 
With those I loved in early days, 

The life of heaven to share. 



HOW COME THE DEAD. 

TTOW come the dead ? we anxious ask, 

When, parting from our sight, 
The spirit leaves its earthly home, 
To dwell in realms of light. 

How come the dead ? Shall we no more 

The friends we love behold ; 
Nor clasp again within our arms 

Their forms so still and cold ? 



34# SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

The very question that we ask 

May its own answer give ; 
Is it the mortal that we mourn ? 

Our friends immortal live ! 

They come, though unperceived by sense, 
Through memory's open door ; 

We see their looks, their voices hear, 
Familiar as before. 

They come ; for hope will whisper still, 

Undying in the heart, 
That friends who love shall meet again, 

Meet nevermore to part. 

And faith, with heaven-directed gaze, 
As seeing things concealed, 

Declares the dead, with Christ, shall come, 
When he shall be revealed. 



THE COMING OF THE LORD. 

Take ye heed, watch and pray : for ye know not when the time is." — Mark xiii. 33. 

r^OME suddenly, O Lord, or slowly come, 

I wait thy will, thy servant ready is ; 
Thou hast prepared thy follower a home, 

The heaven in which thou dwellest too is his. 

Come in the morn, at noon, or midnight deep ; 

Come, for thy servant still doth watch, and pray ; 
E'en when the world around is sunk in sleep, 

I wake, and long to see thy glorious day. 

I would not fix the time, the day, nor hour, 
When thou with all thine angels shalt appear ; 

When in thy kingdom thou shalt come with power, 
E'en now, perhaps, the promised day is near ! 



CYRUS AUGUSTUS BARTOL. 347 

For though in slumber deep the world may lie, 
And e'en thy Church forget thy great command, 

Still year by year thy coming draweth nigh, 
And in its power thy kingdom is at hand. 

Not in some future world alone 'twill be, 

Beyond the grave, beyond the bounds of time ; 

But on the earth thy glory we shall see, 

And share thy triumph, peaceful, pure, sublime. 

Lord ! help me that I faint not, weary grow, 
Nor at thy coming slumber too, and sleep ; 

For thou hast promised, and full well I know 
Thou wilt to us thy word of promise keep. 



CYRUS AUGUSTUS BARTOL. 

(1813.) 

Rev. Cyrus A. Bartol, D.D., was born at Freeport, Me., April 30, 
1813. He graduated at Bowdoin College in 1832, and at the Cambridge 
Divinity School in 1835. ** e was settle d as colleague pastor with the 
Rev. Charles Lowell, D.D., of the West Church, Boston, March 1, 1837. 
Since Dr. Lowell's death in 1861, Dr. Bartol has been sole pastor of this 
ancient church, of which William Hooper was the first minister, and 
the second was the celebrated Jonathan Mayhew, whom Judge Paine 
declared to be the "father of civil and religious liberty in Massachusetts 
and America," and who, Dr. Bartol says, was "the first openly to pro- 
claim on these shores the sublime doctrine of the strict and undivided 
Unity of God." Elsewhere in this volume it has been remarked that Dr. 
Freeman, of Boston, was, at a later day, the first to preach Unitarianism 
under that distinctive name. 

Beside publishing a great variety of pamphlet discourses and articles 
for leading magazines, Dr. Bartol has given to the press numerous vol- 
umes of a theological or religious character, all of which have been marked 
by the extraordinary intellectual brilliancy and spiritual power for which 
he is distinguished. These are, "Discourses on the Christian Spirit 
and Life," 1850 ; "Discourses on the Christian Body and Form," 1853 ; 
" Pictures of Europe," a work combining a series of graphic sketches 
of the author's European travels, with philosophical reflections, 1855 ; 



348 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

" West Church and its Ministers," 1856 ; " Church and Congregation," 
1858 ; " The Word of the Spirit to the Church," 1859 ; " Radical Prob- 
lems," 1872 ; and "The Rising Faith," 1874. He received the degree of 
D.D. from Harvard College in 1859. 

Assisted by Charles G. Loring, Joseph Willard, and others in his 
society, Dr. Bartol compiled for use in his own church " Hymns for the 
Sanctuary," 1849. This took the place of the book which is generally 
known as the " West Boston Collection," and which was long used dur- 
ing Dr. Lowell's ministry. The latter, again, was preceded by an edition 
of Tate and Brady. We are not aware that in the "Hymns for the 
Sanctuary " is to be found any hymn which the principal compiler him- 
self contributed to the store of sacred song. But from other sources we 
gather various hymns or poems which he has written, and which, marked 
as they are by the author's well-known striking originality of thought and 
highly poetic imagination, our readers, we are sure, will be glad to see 
brought together here. 

At the beginning and close of his admirable " Pictures of Eiirope " 
are two very fine poems, entitled " The Two Journeys," and " The 
Guide ; " while the fifteen or twenty chapters in the volume are intro- 
duced each by some brief lines that are full of meaning and beauty. 
Three of these shorter pieces are here presented. 



BEAUTY OF THE WORLD. 



"DEHOLD, — but motes of animated dust, — 
The sons of men upon this whirling ball ! 
Yet to each mote, O Thou, in whom we trust, 
Lord of the sphere so vast, dost show it all. 



Still brooding over beauty, thou dost bend, 
In thy delight dost our delight intend : 
Immense the scale, — how graceful still thy work ! 
In smallest things unmeasured grandeurs lurk. 

For no fond favors, Father of mankind ! 
We bless thee, but for thine impartial mind : 
Thanks for the equal splendor of the sun ; 
Thanks for thy love to all, respect to none. 



CYRUS AUGUSTUS BARTOL. 349 



THE MOUNTAINS. 

/^VLD mountains ! dim and gray ye rise 
^^^ As ceaseless prayer, — earth's sacrifice ! 
Sharing your breath, the soul adores, 
And with your soaring summits soars. 

Where Moses taught, where Jesus trod, 

Your tops stand altars unto God. 

O shapes of glory, sacred all, 

From every height heaven's blessings fall. 

The minaret watchman's punctual cry 
Summons loud worship to the sky; 
Voiceless appeals, from you sent down, 
A million silent throbbings own. 



Ten lines introduce the chapter on " The Enduring Kingdom." Dr. 
Bartol has favored us by slightly changing the ninth line, and adding two 
others, thus giving to the whole more of the hymn-form, and adapting it 
to wider use. 

THE ENDURING KINGDOM. 

'T^HROUGH haughty realms that low and wasted lie, 

Through royal ranks that march in haste to die, 
An empire, with no touch of earthly fate, 
Grows on to boundless reach and endless date. 

No gilded throne its lowly founder rears ; 
No sword or sceptre stretches for our fears ; 
His purple robe, the crimson on his head, 
Tells of no hearts he bruised, no blood he shed. 

His glories, shared with servants, kings affright, 
And crowns are turned to relics at his sight : 
Our track is toward him on the rolling sphere, 
Till seekers in past story find him here. 



350 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



JUBILEE HYMN. 

Sung at the celebration of the Fiftieth Anniversary of the ordination of. Dr. Lowell, 
January, 1856. The hymn may be found in the record of the proceedings of that occasion 
as published in the " West Church and its Ministers." 

r\ ISRAEL! at the trumpet turn ; 

From toil set every household free ; 
While priests with people meet, and burn 
To share the long-hoped jubilee. 

Let royal psalms all ranks rejoice, 
Each alien take his ancient ground, 

The loosened bondmen lift their voice, 
The lowliest Hebrew head be crowned! 

Through fifty over-arching years, 
Their sorrows are a fleeting shade ; 

Fall now like far-off rain their tears ; 
In mercy's light their miseries fade. 

A Christian jubilee we sing : 

Guided in gloom, in grief consoled, 

Through half a century's crowded ring 
Our countless flock yet seeks one fold. 

The church and shepherd, joined by God, 

A golden wedding celebrate ; 
With joy that flowers upon his rod, 

And peace out-blooming earthly date. 

Fast by your heritage still stand, 

Ye children ! for the past give praise ; 

Our younger with the elder band 

Breathe vows of love to endless days. 



The two hymns which immediately follow are from a small volume of 
prayers and hymns for the children of the church, entitled " Children's 
Praise," which was published in 1858, and which we believe was 
specially designed for Dr. Bartol's own Sunday School. 



CYRUS AUGUSTUS BARTOL. 351 



MORNING AND EVENING PRAISE. 

" It is a good thing to give thanks unto the Lord, and to sing praises unto thy name, 
O Most High. To shew forth thy loving-kindness in the morning, and thy faithfulness 
every night." 

f~^ OD of the morning and the night, 

Morning and night thy mercies bring • 
Our mornings, of thy face the light, 
Our evenings, shadows of thy wing. 

Life's morn and eve, thy light and shade ; 

Our being wakes to sleep at death, 
Till dawn of endless day be made 

For us to draw immortal breath. 



THE CHILDREN IN THE TEMPLE. 

1 Children crying in the Temple, and saying, Hosanna to the Son of David." 

TTOSANNA unto David's Son ! 
The Hebrew offspring cry ; 
Hosanna to the lowly One ! 
The Gentile youth reply. 

Hosanna for his blessings given ! 

Sang such as felt his hand ; 
Hosanna, touched by Him from heaven, 

Sings our still blessed band. 

Bright with the face of God, he shows 

Our angels' guardian ranks ; 
Hosanna ! — as to them he goes, 

We greet him with our thanks. 

From East to West, in shrines of praise, 

As in the courts above, 
We children our hosannas raise, 

He breathed for us such love ! 

Kingdom, of which he said we are, 

Below or in the skies, 
Come shine in glory thence afar, 

Until our spirits rise ! 



352 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

ON VISITING MY HOME AFTER FORTY YEARS. 

From " Old and New," April, 1870. 

"PNTRANCED among the rocks and trees, 

I wander to and fro, 
In sweet oblivion with the breeze 
And forty years ago. 

My birth-place works the charm of power : 

Boyhood alone I know ; 
My life is crowded to an hour, — 

'Tis forty years ago. 

I have not bought, I have not sold ; 

Yet breathes, with whisper low, 
Wonder new-born from stories told 

Me forty years ago. 

No weight I feel of care or sin ; 

My sorrows off I throw : 
Remorse has fled, doubt has not been ; — 

'Tis forty years ago. 

I am no husband, father, priest, 

No rival see, or foe ; 
I sit the smallest at the feast ; 

'Tis forty years ago. 

The timid thrush sings where I tread ; 

Roses fresh welcome blow, 
And swing their censers o'er my head, 

As forty years ago. 

The sea and sand, the brook, the shore, 

Hill-top and meadow low, 
I find no atom less or more 

Than forty years ago. 



CHARLES T. BROOKS. 353 

O'er Alpine pass, through halls of art, 

No more can memory flow, 
While present glory fills my heart, 

From forty years ago. 

O maze of joy ! from mates at play, 

Or learning in a row, 
War's distant thunder rolls away, 

With forty years ago. 

Will He, that shines through all life's gloom, 

And heightens all its glow, 
In dateless heaven not find some room 

For forty years ago ? 



CHARLES T. BROOKS. 
(1813.) 

Rev Charles T. Brooks was born in Salem, Mass., June 20, 1813. 
He graduated at Harvard College in 1832, and spent the next three years 
at the Divinity School, Cambridge. He began to preach at Nahant in 
the summer of 1835, and subsequently officiated at Bangor and Augusta, 
Me., Windsor, Vt., and various other places, until 1837, when he was 
ordained pastor of the Unitarian Church at Newport, R.I., receiving 
the charge from Dr. Channing. In the following October, he was also 
married by Dr. Channing to Harriet L., second daughter of Benjamin 
Hazard, lawyer and legislator in that State. In the autumn of 187 1, 
he resigned the charge of the Newport pulpit in consequence of failure 
of sight and health, having continued his labors in the ministry for over 
thirty-six years. His home is still at Newport. 

Mr. Brooks's extensive literary work has consisted largely of studies 
and translations of the German, to which he was introduced, while he 
was in college, by Dr. Follen. He has also contributed a large number 
of serious or humorous original poems to the magazines or papers ; writ- 
ten many hymns or odes for public, religious, patriotic, or festive occa- 
sions ; and furnished, from time to time, a variety of articles in prose to 
the periodicals. He published a translation of Schiller's " William Tell," 
anonymously, at Providence, 1838 ; a volume of miscellaneous poems, 
from the German, in Mr. George Ripley's "Specimens of Foreign Stand- 
ard Literature," 1842 ; a Poem before the Phi Beta Kappa Society, Cam- 

23 



354 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

bridge, 1845 ; a Translation of Schiller's " Homage of the Arts," with 
Miscellaneous Pieces from Riickert, Freiligrath, and other German 
poets, 1847; "Aquidneck, and other Poems," 1848; a pamphlet, "The 
Controversy touching the Old Stone-Mill in the Town of Newport, R.I., 
with Remarks Introductory and Conclusive," 1851 ; a volume of " Ger- 
man Lyrics," selected from a mass of translations previously published 
in the "Literary World," or existing only in manuscript, 1853 ; an ad- 
mirable translation of Goethe's Faust, 1855 ; " Songs of the Field and 
Flood ; " a volume of sermons, " Simplicity of Christ's Teaching," 1859 ; 
"Titan," 1862; "Hesperus," 1865; a translation of the "Layman's 
Breviary," 1867, and one also of the " World's Priest," 1873, both from 
Schefer. 

In 1853 Mr. Brooks took a voyage to India for his health, and wrote 
an extended account of his tour, parts of which appeared in " Harper's 
Magazine " in 1855. He has numerous other interesting papers or works 
in manuscript which wait to be published. Among the articles he con- 
tributed to the " Christian Examiner " are one on Poetry, 1845 ; one 
on German Hymnology, t86o ; and another on the Apocalypse. He 
wrote also one on Renan, for the " North American Review." Of his 
pamphlet sermons, " The Man of God," delivered before the graduating 
class of the Cambridge Divinity School, 1861, deserves special mention. 

It is to be regretted that no Collection has been made of the large 
number of choice and beautiful original hymns ancl^ poems which this 
gentle and greatly beloved singer has written, and which are scattered so 
freely through the papers, magazines, and books to which they have 
been sent, or into which they have otherwise found their way. It is 
equally surprising that so few of them have gained a place in our Church 
Collections. We shall be justified in giving large room to our gleanings. 
A few translations are appended to the original poems. 



THE POOR. 

For the " Tea Bell," published in behalf of a Fair for Soldiers' Families. 

" *^pHE poor ye always have with you," 

•*■ He said, through whom the Father spake, 

When on his followers, sad and few, 
That last farewell was soon to break. 

" The poor ye always have with you," — 

Age after age has passed away, 
And still that word of his stands true, 

The poor we have with us to-day. 



CHARLES T. BROOKS. 355 

" The poor ye always have with you," 
Their shadowy forms are here to-night, 

Though haply hidden from our view 
By all this blaze of joyous light. 

" The poor ye always have with you," 

Angels are they of heavenly love ; 
They ask, and give a blessing, too, 

That priceless blessing from above. 

" The poor ye always have with you," 

Poor soldiers from the field of strife, 
And those poor souls that struggle through, 

At home, the thorny fight of life. 

" The poor ye always have with you," 

And none more poor of all that live, 
Than they whose cold hearts never knew 

The bliss of him that loves to give. 

" The poor ye always have with you," — 

Then let your kindness still abound, 
That where the thorns of penury grew 

Heaven's roses may enrich the ground. 



THE FAITHFUL MONK. 

Lines suggested by an allusion in the Memoir of Rev. O. W. B. Peabody. 

f~^ OLDEN gleams of noonday fell 

On the pavement of the cell ! 
And the monk still lingered there 
In the ecstasy of prayer. 
Fuller floods of glory streamed 
Through the window, and it seemed 
Like an answering glow of love, 
From the countenance above. 



356 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

On the silence of the cell 
Break the faint tones of a bell. 
'Tis the hour when at the gate 
Crowds of poor and hungry wait, 
Wan and wistful, to be fed 
With the friar of Mercy's bread. 

Hark ! that chime of heaven's far bells ! 
On the monk's rapt ear it swells. 
No ! fond, flattering dream, away ! 
Mercy calls : no longer stay ! 
Whom thou yearnest here to find 
In the musings of thy mind, 
God and Jesus, lo ! they wait, 
Knocking at thy convent gate ! 

From his knees the monk arose ; 

With full heart and hand he goes, 

At his gate the poor relieves, 

Gives a blessing, and receives : 

To his cell returned, and there 

Found the angel of his prayer, 

Who with radiant features said, 

" Hadst thou stayed, I must have fled." 

DEDICATION OF PLUMMER HALL, SALEM, MASS. 

CPIRITS of the mighty dead, 

In the deathless page enshrined, 
Whence ye still serenely shed 

Light immortal as the mind ! 
Shades of many a reverend age, 

Consecrate these new-built halls ! 
Bard and prophet, saint and sage, 

Pour your light along these walls. 

Ye, too, whose fresh graves are wet 
With affection's tear-drops now ; 

Ye who dwell where death has set 
Radiance on each marble brow, — 



CHARLES T. BROOKS. 2>S7 

As to-day we thoughtful meet, 

Sainted spirits, gather round ! 
Make this pensive, calm retreat 

Evermore a hallowed ground. 

Long shall children's children here 

Thy twin-volumes, God ! explore, 
Thought's deep mysteries oft revere, 
. Nature's marvels ponder o'er. 
Light of wisdom ! Soul of truth ! 

Torch of science ! Trump of song ! 
Hope of age and Guide of youth ! 

Make us calm, and brave, and strong ! 

Swell to-day their noble fame, 

Who, in wintry exile drear, 
Planted, in Jehovah's name, 

Truth's and Freedom's empire here ; 
Twine for later names a wreath 

In your hearts with pious care, — 
Names whose benefactions breathe 

Fragrance on their native air ! 

Bless, kind Heaven ! this ancient town, 

Built for thee, and named of Peace ! 
Righteousness be still her crown, 

Works of love her wealth increase ! 
God of Peace ! the city keep, 

Guarded well by watchers three, — 
Sentinels that ne'er shall sleep, — 

Learning, Faith, and Liberty ! 



ST. JOHN'S VISION. 

"D EJOICE, O weary soul ! 

The day will surely rise, 
When this thy earth new-born shall roll 
Through new-created skies. 



358 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH, 

The veil of oldness then 

From human eyes shall fall, 

And, dwelling face to face with men, 
Shall God be all in all. 

The glory of his throne 

Shall then make all things new : 

Eternal love shall reign alone, 
And heaven be full in view. 

The curse shall be no more, 
Of doubt, distrust, and gloom ; 

But on this heaven-illumined shore 
The flower of hope shall bloom. 

The city of our God 

Her gates shall open wide, 

And through her streets and portals broad 
Shall pour a living tide. 

There no more night shall be, 
And death shall reign no more : 

There shall be no more sea, 
No partings on the shore. 

But life's pure river there 
Shall flow serene and calm, 

And, freshening all the tranquil air, 
The tree of life breathe balm. 

God's love shall end all fears : 

From every weeping eye 
His hand shall wipe away the tears, 

And death itself shall die. 



AN EVENING HYMN. 

/^NCE more on balmy wings, 

Evening, descending, brings 
Coolness and calm : 



CHARLES T* BROOKS. 359 

Thou, in whom is no night, 
Up to thy world of light 
Guide thou our feeble sight, 
Our lowly psalm ! 

Lord of the shining ones ! 
Glory of myriad suns 

Breaks on our sight ! 
Here, earth in darkness lies ; 
There, in the boundless skies, 
Heaven's day, with million eyes, 

Broods o'er the night. 

Under thy wing we flee, 
Father of majesty, 

Mercy, and might ! 
Keep us from sin's dark snare, — 
From this world's gloom and glare, — 
Till beams through heaven's pure air 

Truth's morning light ! 



INSTALLATION HYMN. 

Sung at the installation of Rev. Charles Lowe as minister of the North Church, Salem, 
Sept. 27, 1855. 

/^REAT God ! within these temple gates 

To-day a reverent people waits 
To hear thy voice, to see thy face, 
And feel thine all-enlivening grace. 

For here, of old, thy name was named. 
Thy truth, of old, was here proclaimed, 
Here swelled the song of praise and trust 
From lips now mouldering in the dust. 

What sainted forms this hour draw near, 
To calm, to strengthen, and to cheer ! 
Their words of counsel and of prayer 
Still haunt the hushed and hallowed air. 



360 SONGS OF THE, LIBERAL FAITH. 

Where once they stood, thy servant stands, 
With girded loins and waiting hands ; 
O, give him strength, Almighty Lord ! 
To do thy will and speak thy word. 

Give him the burning love of truth 
And wisdom's ever-blooming youth ; 
The tender heart, the faithful tongue, 
The quickening word for old and young. 

Lord ! on this ancient church of thine 
Still let thy face benignant shine ; 
And more and more, as years roll by, 
May souls be ripening for the sky. 



THE MEMORY OF CHANNING. 

Commemorative of the twenty-fifth anniversary of the death of Dr. Charming. Ser- 
vices in Arlington Street Church, Boston, 1867. 

f~\ GOD ! in thy autumnal skies 

The dying woodlands glow and flame ; 
And wheresoe'er we turn our eyes, 

All-conquering Life S we trace thy name. 

Bright emblem of that tranquil faith 

Whose evening beams " Good Morrow " give, 

Each leaf, transfigured, mutely saith, 
" As dying, and, behold ! we live." 

God of the living, — not the dead ! 

Like autumn leaves we fade and flee ; 
Yet reigns eternal spring o'erhead, 

Where souls for ever live to thee. 

From that pure upper world to-day 
A hallowed memory meets us here, — 

A presence lighting all our way 

With heavenly thoughts and lofty cheer ; 



CHARLES T. BROOKS. 361 

A mind whose luminous vision woke 
Man's better soul with kindling might, 

When that calm voice, inspiring, spoke 
For Truth, and Liberty, and Light \ 

A power that still uplifts the age, 

That nerves men's hearts to manly strife, 

That speaks from many a glowing page, 
That lives in many a godly life. 

Blest spirit ! with the kindred band 
Of saints and seers, the sons of light, 

Still cheer us through this earthly land 
With tidings from the heavenly height. 

Oh, help us meekly, bravely tread 

The path of righteousness and love, 
Till, joined to all the immortal dead, 

We walk in cloudless light above. 



ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG ARTIST. 

A young artist, William Russell, son of the late Professor William Russell, of Lancas- 
ter, Mass., had gone from his home in Medford, into the fields and woods, as was his 
wont, to sketch. He was found some weeks afterward seated under a tree, and dead, the 
body being much decayed. He was discovered by a party of children who were berrying, 
and who were guided to the spot by a dog. He had sat down in view of a lovely scene, and 
is supposed to have died of heart-disease. 

'T^HE break of morn and May, 

Soft as a spirit's influence, drew him forth 
To spend with Nature one more tranquil day, 
And look his last on this majestic earth. 

Reclining on her breast, 
He reads once more her sweet benignant face • 

Then peacefully to rest 
Sinks like a child, there, in her great embrace. 



362 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Alone ; — no human eye 
Hung o'er him, as he lay, with yearning love : 

Yet God's blue tender sky 
Looked down upon him through the pines above. 

So near — and yet alone ! 
No kindred hand to smooth his dying bed, 

But a low plaintive moan, 
As of a spirit, stirred the boughs o'erhead. 

It was God's spirit near ! 
" For so he giveth his beloved sleep," 

And strewed the leafy bier, 
And bids his angels watch around him keep. 

He was — and is — at home, 
Gone hence, attended by a spirit band : 

Where death no more can come, 
He dwells now in his native spirit-land. 

Was it not meet that so — 
By Heaven's mysterious whisper called away — 

That gentle one should go 
Hence, in the tenderness of life's pure May ? 

As the breeze dies away, — 
Mysteriously dies, — 

As dies the fading light at close of day, 
In summer skies. 



IN MEMORIAM. 

H. T. TUCKERMAN. 

(~\ FRIEND, endeared to heart and mind 
By feeling's wealth and genial powers, 
Companion gentle, wise, refined, 

Of happy days and thoughtful hours ! 



CHARLES T. BROOKS. 36; 

Death cannot take thee from my side, 

Death could not chill thy heart's warm flow ; 

Those kindly well-springs gush and glide, 
Close by me still where'er I go. 

How can I, though thy form is gone, 
Deem that our walks and talks are o'er ? 

Oft shall we still stroll calmly on 

By lonely lane and murmuring shore. 

As yearly, to that healthful shore 

The city's denizens retreat, 
We never, save in memory, more 

Thy pale and pensive face shall meet. 

Thy step is on a fairer strand, 

Where healthful airs perennial blow ; 

Thy home is that unfading land 

Whose tribes nor death nor sickness know. 

And there thou art rejoined to one, 

Thy heart's best friend for many a year ; 

O beauteous bond of sire and son, 

More beauteous in that happier sphere. 

And he, that dear old master, there 

Receives thee to a heavenly hill, 
And, both made young in that pure air, 

Ye join a wiser Master still. 

Yet not far distant do we deem 

The spirit-land which now is thine ; 
Thy thought and life, a tranquil stream, 

Beyond death's cloud-veil glide and shine. 

And tender memories, mild and fair, 
With every thought of thee shall come, 

Like beckonings through a purer air, 
That bid us feel thy heaven our home. 



364 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



HYMN FOR A FESTIVAL. 

Written for, and sung at, the Unitarian Festival, at Music Hall, Thursday, June 1st, 
1871, Boston, and repeated on the same occasion, in 1873. 

/^REAT Lord of all ! our Father, God ! 

Sweet summer's hymn ascends to thee : 
Her beauty breathes thy joy abroad, 

And love's warm tide flows full and free. 

Through all the realm of earth and air, 
Thy great heart pulses day and night, 

And flower and fountain leap to share 
The glory of thy kindling light. 

In morn's and evening's twilight glow, 
Thy tender greeting, Lord, we feel ; 

And midnight heavens, with silent show, 
Thy watchful, patient love reveal. 

But not in realms dim sense can sound 
The fountain springs that life imparts ; 

That blessed source alone is found 
In loving and believing hearts. 

To-day thy fount, dear Spirit, dwells 

In us, replenished from above ; 
And through our mingling bosoms wells 

In sparkling tides of life and love. 

What feast of souls, thy fount of grace, 
O bounteous God, this day hath spread ! 

Fair nature's light, and friendship's face, 
And tender memory of the dead. 

The immortal dead ! in thee they live ; 

With them, to-day, we live in thee ; 
To us, O Fount Eternal, give 

The life of faith in love made free. 



CHARLES T. BROOKS. 365 

HYMN FOR THE END OF THE YEAR 1871. 

Written in the Hospital. 

"pARTH rolls round from day to night, 

And from night again to day ; 
Days and years, in ceaseless flight, 
Unreturning, speed away. 

Yet, above the rushing tide, 

Bearing earthly wrecks along, 
Heavenly hills of peace abide, — 

God's own holy mountain strong. 

There the Lamb amidst the flock, 

In serene communion dwells ; 
Through the fields of truth they walk, 

Drink of truth's immortal wells. 

Rock of Ages ! on thy breast, 

'Mid the restless waves of time, 
May our souls find tranquil rest, 

By the power of faith sublime. 

God ! in whom our dwelling-place 

Ever has been and shall be : 
•Let thy gentle hand of grace 

Hold us 'mid the surging sea. 

Fill the eventide with light ! 

Bid all doubt and trouble cease ! 
Let us, in the mountain's height, 

Share the ascended Master's peace. 

With the saintly, brave, and wise, 

Now with life immortal crowned, 
Walking in his paradise, 

Day by day may we be found. 

Thus, as days and years depart, 

And when time itself shall flee, 
Purged in sight and pure in heart, 

Draw us home to them and thee. 



366 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



SUCH IS LIFE. 

Written in the Hospital, 1872. 

IFE is a sea ; like ships we meet, — 
We speak each other and are gone. 
Across that deep, O what a fleet 
Of human souls is hurrying on ! 

We meet, we part, and hope some day 

To meet again on sea or shore, 
Before we reach that peaceful bay, 

Where all shall meet, to part no more. 

O great Commander of the fleet ! 

O Ruler of the tossing seas ! 
Thy signal to our eyes how sweet ! 

How sweet thy breath, — the heavenly breeze ! 

THE GREAT VOICES. 

Written on the way to the Berkshire Hills, for the "Boston Transcript," 1S72. 

A VOICE from the sea to the mountains, 
From the mountains again to the sea: 
A call from the deep to the fountains, 
O spirit ! be glad and be free ! 

A cry from the floods to the fountains, 
And the torrents repeat the glad song, 

As they leap from the breast of the mountains, 
O spirit ! be free and be strong ! 

The pine forests thrill with emotion 

Of praise, as the spirit sweeps by : 
With a voice like the murmur of ocean, 

To the soul of the listener they cry. 

O sing, human heart, like the fountains, 

With joy reverential and free ; 
Contented and calm as the mountains, 

And deep as the woods and the sea. 



CHARLES T. BROOKS. 367 

HYMN FOR VISITATION DAY. 

Written for the Visitation Day of the Cambridge Divinity School, 1873. 

A T thy call, O Voice divine ! 

Here, with girded loins, we stand : 
Soldiers, priests, and sons of thine, 
Lord, we wait the beckoning hand. 

From this cloistered, calm retreat, — 

From our musings, vows, and prayers, — 

At thy word we go to meet 

Earthly conflicts, toils, and cares. 

Through the temple-gate, O God ! 

In thy might would we go forth, 
Thou, whose altar, pure and broad, 

Hallows every spot of earth. 

Lead us in the kindling name 

Of thy Christ, thy perfect Son ! 
Make his love our guiding flame, 

Till the heavenly day is won. 

FOR THE NEWPORT CHURCH. 

Written for Rev. J. C. Kimball's installation as Mr. Brooks's successor in the pastorate 
in the church at Newport, Oct. 7, 1873. 

"RATHER of world and soul ! 

Changeless, while ages roll ! 

Boundless in grace ! 
Who, with thy strength and rest, 
Quickenest and quietest ! 
Now in each yearning breast 

Unveil thy face I 



368 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Word ! whose creative thrill 
Wakes in all nature still 

Life, light, and bloom ! 
Come with resistless ray, 
Chase all our clouds away, 
And with thy heavenly day 

All souls illume ! 

Spirit, in whom we live ! 
Thou who dost yearn to give 

All hearts thy rest ! 
When earthly joys take flight, 
Cheer thou the earthly night, 
And in the morning light 

Still be our guest ! 

And when the eternal morn, 

From death's deep night- shades born, 

Our eyes shall see, 
Father ! thy word, thy breath, 
Thy Christ, who conquereth 
Sorrow and Sin and Death, 

Our trust shall be ! 



DEATH OF A YOUNG MAN. 

Died in 1873 at Mystic, Conn., Samuel Lee, aged 21. 

T^ATHER ! beneath thy chastening stroke 

With sad, yet trusting hearts we bow : 
Though here the golden bowl is broke, 
The Eternal Fountain still art thou ! 

Around this fount of Life and Love 

We gather in our lonely grief; 
With thee in thy pure home above 

Is all our solace and relief. 



CHARLES T. BROOKS. 369 

On earth we ever more must miss 

The son and brother, loved and true 3 

But in a brighter world than this 

The beauteous bond wilt thou renew. 

He lives to thee ! to us he lives ! 

Death cannot blight such love and truth : 
The memory of his goodness gives 

A pledge of heaven's eternal youth ! 



- IN MEMORY OF M. K. H. 

Jan 2, 1874. 

T AMB of God's fold ! 'tis well with thee ! 

Thy sufferings all are ended now ; 
His hand from every pain set free 

The burdened breast and weary brow. 

The fluttering heart is laid to rest 
On God's great heart for evermore ; 

The wounded bird hath reached its nest, 
The sea is past, the storm is o'er. 

'Tis well with thee ! a blest relief 

God's angel, Death, to thee hath brought ; 

But ah ! by lonely, bitter grief 
To us submission must be taught. 

We cannot wish thee back again 

From that most calm and blissful shore, 

To taste the cup of earthly pain, 
And weary conflict, long and sore. 

'Tis well, we own : in tearful trust 
We lift our eyes to Heaven, and say : 

God is our Father, wise and just ; 
He gave, and he hath taken away. 

24 



370 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Hath taken away, that he may keep 
Our darling in his blest embrace ; 

Till we, who now in sorrow weep, 
Shall hail with joy her radiant face. 

Farewell ! henceforth our angel be ! 

Till we, made child-like, come to dwell 
In that pure home, with God, and thee, 

Where we shall know that all is well. 



We have expressed our regret that so few of Mr. Brooks's hymns 
have a place in the Church Collections. We recall now only two, 
and these are translations from the German. One is in Hedge and 
Huntington's " Hymns for the Church," — 

" Let me not, thou King Eternal." 

The other is in many Collections, Trinitarian and Unitarian, — 

" God bless our native land." 

Compilers and hymnologists, English and American, have either marked 
this latter "Anonymous," or else have attributed it to John S. Dwight. 
Thus it is referred to Mr. Dwight by Mr. Josiah Miller, in his admirable 
work, " Singers and Songs of the Church " (London : Longmans, Greene, 
& Co., 1869), and by Rev. Charles L. Hutchins, in his valuable "Anno- 
tations of the Hymnal" (H. M. Mallory & Co., Hartford, Conn., 1872). 
Mr. Brooks translated it from the German, while he was a member of 
the Divinity School, at Cambridge. It was shortly afterwards altered 
in some of its lines by Mr. Dwight, and in its changed form was first in- 
troduced, it is supposed, into one of Lowell Mason's singing-books. 
Hence, doubtless, it came to be credited so widely to Mr. Dwight him- 
self. We give the original translation of it by Mr. Brooks. We may 
add, however, that in the " Hymns of the Spirit " the lines of the last 
verse receive a still further change from the original than that which was 
made by Mr. Dwight, and that the compilers add also a third stanza. 



OUR COUNTRY. 

"^OD bless our native land ! 
Firm may she ever stand 
Through storm and night ! 



CHARLES T. BROOKS. 371 

When the wild tempests rave, 
Ruler of wind and wave, 
Father Eternal, save 
Us by thy might ! 

Lo ! our hearts' prayers arise 
Into the upper skies, 

Regions of light ! 
He who hath heard each sigh, 
Watches each weeping eye : 
He is forever nigh, 

Venger of Right ! 

NOVALIS'S IXth SPIRITUAL SONG. 

T SAY to every man I meet : 

He lives, He's risen again ! 

And evermore, in house and street, 

Still walks and talks with men. 

I say to each man, — each one says 

To all his friends likewise, — 
Soon shall on earth, in every place, 

The heavenly kingdom rise ! 

Now first, the world, to man's new sight, 

Appears a fatherland : 
New life, with rapturous delight, 

Man welcomes at his hand. 

The dread of death is buried now 

Down in the deepest sea, 
And each with clear and radiant brow 

Beholds futurity. 

Out into heavenly freedom winds 

The darksome way he trod, 
And whoso heeds his counsel finds 

At last the house of God. 



372 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

And now man weeps no more to close 

A brother's eyes below ; 
They, soon or. late, shall meet, he knows 

That sweetens every woe. 

With nobler zest for virtuous deeds 
Each heart of man can glow T ; 

For glorious harvest from these seeds 
In fairer fields shall grow. 

He lives, — forever ours is he, 
Though all else fail on earth ; 

And so to us this day shall be 
The new creation's birth. 



Mr. Brooks sends us the following fresh translations from Friedrich 
Riickert, who had rendered them into German from the Poetry of the 
Brahmins. 

T KNOW not whither I go ; I came, I know not whence ; 

But this, From God to God, is all my confidence. 
Why was I not till now, and others long, long ago ? 
Why was this place assigned to me, of all below"? 
I grow, as grows the tree ; bloom as the field-flowers bloom : 
In my own time of year, in my own garden room. 
In the great garden lies no bed so lone, unblest, 
Which is not, in its time, by Spring's warm breath caressed ; 
No bed, the Gardener's look has never beamed upon, 
And made to bloom in bliss, — whose look is moon and sun. 
I feel the summer's glow, the winter's searching blast, 
And shudder as I think how soon my day is past. 
Yet of immortal stock, faith witnesses, I came, 
And what consumes me is no self-consuming flame. 
A lower impulse stirs within me, and a higher ; 
This must I make my law, resisting base desire. 
My joy will I unfold to purest bloom and glow, 
And to a holy bliss transfigure all my woe. 
God holds me in his hand, in him I rest and wait ; 
Before him I am small, but in him I am great. 



WASHINGTON VERY. 373 



T1TUMANITY is found kneeling, in every zone, 

Before some holy thing, that points to God's pure 
throne ; 
No supplicating form, nor look, do thou despise, 
By which poor, earth-bound hearts would struggle towards 

the skies. 
One child with smiles contends, one with a tearful face, 
In the dear mother's arms to win a blissful place. 



"D ROOK said to stream : Ah me ! swallowed so suddenly : 
I dreamed I was somewhat, but feel I'm naught in 
thee. 
Stream answered : Let it be : we journey to the sea, 
Where I, too, shall be lost, as thou art here in me ! 



"p\EVOUTLY read, and then all books will edify thee ; 

Devoutly look, and naught but wonders will pass by 
thee ; 
Devoutly speak, and men devoutly listen to thee ; 
Devoutly act, and then the might of God acts through thee. 



WASHINGTON VERY. 
(1815-1853.) 

Washington Very, son of Captain Jones Very, and brother of Rev. 
Jones Very, some of whose hymns and sonnets we have given in a pre- 
vious part of this volume, was born in Salem, Mass., Nov. 12, 1815. 
From 1829 to 1835 ^ e was a clerk in the Mercantile Bank of that city, 
and was afterward a book-keeper in the Naumkeag Bank. He graduated 
at Harvard College in 1843, with the second honors of his class. He 
spent the usual three years at the Cambridge Divinity School, graduating 
in 1846. For four months, in 1844-45, ne travelled in Europe, and kept 
a full and interesting journal of his tour. He preached for a year, and 



374 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

then taught a private school in his native city until his death, April 28, 
1853. At the time of his decease, a friend paid him the following tribute 
in the " Salem Gazette : " " He possessed a solid mind, tempered too 
by fine poetical sentiments ; was distinguished for his thoroughness and 
patient investigations in study ; deservedly enjoyed a high classical 
reputation, and was remarkably devoid of pretensions of any sort." His 
sermons, and various prose contributions to several papers, were of de- 
cided merit ; while the few hymns and poems which he left behind him 
were exceedingly fine, and are significant of what had doubtless been our 
increased indebtedness to him for yet other offerings of his muse, had his 
life been longer spared. Besides the three pieces here presented, we 
have seen others entitled, " To Frank," " On some Ivy seen at Heidel- 
berg Castle," &c. 



LINES ON THE OLD PUTNEY BURIAL-PLACE, 
DANVERS, MASS. 

OLEEP on, sleep on, beneath the sod 

Which oft your weary feet have pressed ; 
Forgot by man, but not by God, 

Ye lie unknown, though not unblest. 

Sleep on, though high above your grave 
No sculptured marble meets the eye ; 

Here the green birch-trees rustling wave, 
And vines in tangled mazes lie. 

Sleep on among these wooded hills, 
Beholders of your joys and woes ; 

Another's thirst now slake these rills, 
Another's voice this echo knows. 

Sleep on, though lands and wealth are left, 
And all that earthly sense could give ; 

Of nothing have ye been bereft, 

If but your souls have learned to live. 

Sleep, till the morning sunbeams play 
All lovely round this smiling height ; 

Then wake to that E'erlasting Day, 

That knows nor sorrow, darkness, night. 



WASHINGTON VERY. 375 



THE SNOW. 

r I 'HE snow has come ; o'er field and hill 

Its fleecy mantle wide is thrown ; 
And winter's breezes stern and chill, 
Through leafless branches, sadly moan. 

Hushed is the song in every grove, 
And fled the warblers far away ; 

Forgot their spring-told tale of love, 
Amid December's ruder day. 

Each little flower, that late so fair 
Was mirrored in the passer's eye, 

All withered lies. Alas ! the rare, 
The beautiful, but live to die. 

O say not so. The cold, cold grave 
May shut them from our earthly view ; 

But He, the All-powerful to save, 
Doth point us to their glory too. 

Believe each season, as it goes, 
A lesson brings for us to know ; 

Perhaps 'twill speak of present woes, 
Perchance some future bliss foreshow. 

Then hail ! thou wintry robe of white ! 

Fair messenger of swift decay ! 
What though thou tell'st of waning light, 

Thou heraldest a brighter day. 



The following lines are in the " Book of Hymns : " — 

SPRING. 

HPHERE cometh o'er the spirit, 

With each returning year, 
The thought that Thou, the Father, 



376 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Art ever to us near ; 
With hope of life dispelling 

The death, that winter brought ; 
And flowers and fruits foretelling, 

With fragrant beauty fraught. 

'Tis this, which calls thy children, 

In sweet accord, to raise, 
Beneath thy blue-domed temple, 

One general hymn of praise 
To Thee, the ever-living, 

The universal King ; 
Who never ceasest giving 

Each good and perfect thing. 

The streamlet from the mountain, 

It speaketh, Lord, of thee, 
As from its snow-capped fountain 

It rushes to the sea : 
The gentle dew descending, 

And cloud's refreshing shower ; — 
O God, our Heavenly Father, 

All, all proclaim thy power. 

ooX^Oc 

JAMES RICHARDSON. 

(1817-1863.) 

Rev. James Richardson was born at Dedham, Mass., May 25, 1817. 
His father was Hon. James Richardson, who resided in that town, and 
was an eminent lawyer and public man for more than a half century. 
The mother was a lineal descendant of Mrs. Winslow, the wife of the 
Pilgrim Governor, but died at an early age, leaving two small children. 
The subject of our sketch, who was one of these, had the advantage of 
good society, and in his childhood manifested a great fondness for books 
and nature. When only six years old, he used to play the preacher and 
try his hand at writing hymns. He early showed a passion also for 



JAMES RICHARDSON. 377 

drawing and music. In most of these youthful predilections, but espe- 
cially in his love of poetry, he was much encouraged by his father, who 
had himself written a poem on graduating at college, and subsequently 
given another before the Phi Beta Kappa Society at Cambridge. The 
son graduated at Harvard College in 1837, having been deeply interested 
during his academic course in the metaphysical works of German and 
French authors, and an ardent friend of the Transcendental Philosophy. 
He aided in collecting " Carlyle's Miscellanies," published under Mr. 
Emerson's supervision; wrote articles for the "Democratic Review "and 
other leading journals, and helped to edit the college magazine, though 
his studies were frequently interrupted by ill health. He was afterward 
a clerk of the county courts, then a principal of a school in New Hamp- 
shire, and later still at the head of another near Providence, R.I. 

Entering the Divinity School at Cambridge, he spent three years in 
the study of theology, and graduated in 1845. Shortly after, he was 
ordained to the ministry in Southington, Conn. ; and two years later 
became the pastor of the Unitarian Society in Haverhill, Mass. While 
here, he often lectured as well as preached, and took an active interest in 
the Temperance, Peace, and Anti-slavery Reforms. A return of bleeding 
at the lungs obliged him at length to give up his parish, and he went 
back to his paternal acres at Dedham. Yet he continued to preach and 
lecture as opportunity and health permitted, contributed to the papers 
and magazines numerous poems, stories, and essays, and published " Dis- 
courses on Theology and Religion," " The Nature of Divine Revelation," 
"The Relation of Religion and the Pulpit," and the "Nature of Sin and 
Evil." His humane heart led him during the late war to the hospitals at 
Washington ; and the last services of this gifted essayist, lecturer, poet, 
and preacher, were ministries of care and devotion to the nation's 
wounded and suffering heroes at the capital of his country. Here he 
died, Nov. 10, 1863. 

We are mainly indebted for the above account to a sketch of Mr. 
Richardson in "Brittan's Journal" (April No., 1873), written by the 
editor, who has also kindly sent us copies of four of our poet's produc- 
tions in verse, which were published more than twenty years ago in "The 
Shekinah," another magazine conducted by himself with the very effi- 
cient aid of his gifted friend. Portions of these pieces were introduced, 
by way of illustration, into Mr. Brittan's sketch above referred to. They 
are" here given in their more entire form. We may add that Mr. Rich- 
ardson, like his father, wrote an ode for the valedictory exercises of his 
college class. The first stanza was as follows : — 

A shadow steals across the sun, 

And veils our morning sky • 
A tear bedews the light of joy, 

That gladdened every eye. 



37$ SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



GOD'S TRUE TEMPLE. 

TVTOT by vast piles of sculptured stone, uprearing 

Their massive towers and fretted spires on high, 
With splendid pomp and costly pride, appearing 
To scorn the poor and humble passer-by ; 

Not by the rich and swelling congregations 
That daily crowd the broad, luxurious aisles ; 

Not by the pulpit's eloquent orations, 

And melody that sense and soul beguiles ; 

Not by most solemn rites, nor by receiving 

The holy bread and consecrated cup ; 
Not by vain doctrines and long creeds believing, 

Do we the temple of our God build up. 

For God's true temple is Humanity, 

That now unfinished and in ruin lies ; 
And would we its divine restorers be, 

And raise it up in glory to the skies ? 

Wherever weep the enslaved, the poor, the lowly, 
Or fall the tempted, frail, and sinful ones, 

There, with a purpose high and spirit holy, 
We'll haste to succor these our Father's sons. 

And inward purity and love combining, 

That Spirit fair which moved our blessed Lord 

Shall build them up as stones, all fair and shining, 
Into a living temple of our God. 

And thus shall we in lofty virtue growing, 
Founded on Jesus as our corner-stone, 

Be pillars of that holy Temple, showing 

That God's true praise is love of man alone. 



JAMES RICHARDSON. 379 



TRUST IN MAN. 

"LT AVE faith in man, thy brother : 
In the dungeon's gloomy cell, 
All chained and manacled, there sits 

A murderer, grim and fell ; 
And, like the moonlight on the cloud, 

Or sunbeam on the sea, 
Clasped to his heart, his daughter fair 

Sits on the convict's knee. 
And' the murderer lifts his blood-stained soul 

Up to the Father's throne, 
And prays that God would shield his child, 

Left on the world alone. 
Oh, may not that prayer of faithful love 

For his deep, dark guilt atone ? 
For e'en in the basest felon's breast 

Is a spark of humanity. 
Then trust in man, thy brother, 

Whoever he may be. 

THE LOST ART. 

" f^H, trust not, youth, to the visions fair, 

That charm thy ravished heart ; 
But in the Galleries dim and old, 
More wondrous visions shalt thou behold, 
There study thine ancient art." 

" There worship the great old Masters, 
There copy their works sublime, 

These shall an Inspiration give 

That shall make thy humble works outlive 
The annals of thy time." 

And mildly answered the artist, 

" A gallery have I 
That girdles this beautiful earth around, 
That reaches the mystic dim profound, 

Its roof the vaulted sky. 



380 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

" And deep within the studio 

Of my awed and ravished soul, — 

Painting for ever in silence there, 

His canvas wonderfully fair 
The Master doth unroll. 

" Where studied those ancient artists ? 

Who gave them their wondrous skill ? 
In Nature's Gallery divine, 
They worshipped at thought's interior shrine, 

With God their Master still." 



TRUTH AND NATURE. 

Originally published in the " Knickerbocker." One stanza here omitted. 

HPHERE'S a light gone out of the sunshine, 

A glory from the day ; 
The stars are dimmer to my sight, 
The moon, that hushed the holy night, 
And filled my soul with calm delight, 
Hath lost its ancient ray. 

The brook, with its veined pebbles 

And its painted mussel-shell ; 
The delicate mosses on the brink, 
The crystals within the rocky chink, 
The feathery ferns that stooped ^to drink, — 

All sights that I loved so well : 

With the breath of the apple-blossoms, 
And the scent of the new-mown hay 

Which the starry buttercups illume ; 

The violet's far-diffused perfume, 

And the glory of the roses' bloom, — . 
Have passed from my life away. 



JAMES RICHARDSON. 38 1 

And the voices of the Spring-time 

Carol no more to me ; 
Nor, singing on its stony bed, 
The brook, by hidden fountains fed, 
Answers the robin overhead 

With the old melody. 

All these have forgot the music 

They sang in mine ear of yore ; 
The colors fade in life's garish light, 
The early bloom has turned to blight, 
And the beauteous shows of earth invite 

My heart to joy no more. 

For Youth, that painted their colors, 

And tuned their songs for me, 
No longer peoples the earth and air 
With its forms and sights, divinely fair, 
But hath left my lonely heart to share 

Naught but their memory. 

And yet, as over my spirit 

Their freshening memory breathes, 
Fragrant with odors from wild-wood bowers, 
And thrilling with music of by-gone hours, 
Sweet garlands of dewy, youthful flowers 

Around my brow it wreathes. 

And again, in the genial spring-time, 

I feel the youthful glow ; 
Again heaven's sparkling eyes grow bright 
With something of their ancient light, 
And I hear again, with dear delight, 

Birds sing and streamlets flow. 



The two hymns which follow are copied from the " Book of Hymns," 
from which they have passed into a few other Collections : — 



382 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



THE HYMN OF SUMMER. 

T.JOW glad the tone when summer's sun 

Wreathes the gay world with flowers, 
And trees bend down with golden fruit, 
And birds are in their bowers ! 

The morn sends silent music down 

Upon each earthly thing ; 
And always since creation's dawn 

The stars together sing. 

Shall man remain in silence, then, 

While all beneath the skies 
The chorus joins ? No, let us sing, 

And, while our voices rise, 

O, let our lives, great God, breathe forth 

A constant melody, 
And every action be a tone 

In that sweet hymn to thee ! 



ONE IN CHRIST. 

"PROM Zion's holy hill there rose 

A fount divine, that ever flows ; 
Heaven's smile is on its waters shed, 
By heaven's own dews the fount is fed. 

That stream of truth — a silver thread, 
Scarce known, save by its fountain-head — 
Now onward pours, a mighty flood, 
And fills the new formed world with good. 

Where'er that living fountain flows, 
New life its healing wave bestows, 
And man, from sin's corruptions free, 
Inspires with its own purity. 



GEORGE OSGOOD. 383 

A spirit, breathed from Zion's hill, 
In holy hearts is living still, — 
That Comforter from heaven above, 
The presence of celestial love. 

O may this spirit ever be 
One bond of peace and unity ! 
Thus shall we teach, as Christ began, 
Through love, the brotherhood of man. 



GEORGE OSGOOD. 

(1817.) 

Rev. George Osgood, son of Dr. Joseph Otis Osgood and Elizabeth 
(Fogg) Osgood, was born in Kensington, N.H., Oct. 8, 1817. He grad- 
uated at the Divinity School, Cambridge, in 1847 ; was ordained to 
the Christian ministry in Standish, Me., in 1853 ; and was settled at 
Tyngsborough, Mass., in 1855. He has labored at various other places ; 
but for the last few years his health has been quite poor, and he has con- 
sequently been able to write or preach but little. At one time he was 
editor of the "Exeter [N.H.] News-Letter." He has a decided taste 
and talent for poetic composition, and for many years has contributed 
verses to the papers, most of them having been originally written for his 
friends. The pure and pensive character of his muse may be seen from 
the specimens which we give below. 

The first of these was written by him during his connection with the 
Theological School. He had an uncle in Danvers, Dr. George Osgood, 
a well-known physician, whose name he bore, and who had asked him, on 
one of his visits to the town, to write some lines upon the new cemetery 
in the immediate vicinity. The nephew complied with the request of 
his uncle, and gave the lines to Israel A. Putnam, also then a member of 
the Divinity School, for publication in the " Salem Register." " I little 
thought," writes to us the author, " that Israel would soon rest in this 
spot, and render it dearer and holier by his grave. My uncle and his 
family were buried in another cemetery, and your brother is the only 
near friend I have in Walnut Grove." 

WALNUT GROVE CEMETERY. 

"HPIS sweet, when life's last work is done, 

When we no more the earth may tread, 
To find a quiet resting-place 

Where sleep our dear, lamented dead. 



384 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

And shall we find a fairer spot, 

Where we may rest with those we love, 

Than 'neath the spreading trees which shade 
The pleasant grounds of Walnut Grove ? 

There, underneath the rustic bridge, 

The murmuring brook comes stealing through, 
While on its banks unfold the flowers 

Of every bright and lovely hue ; 
There oft the evening birds will sing 

In every branch that waves above, 
To break the silence of the scene 

That else might reign in Walnut Grove. 

There, meet for such a rural spot, 

We mark the rude and noisy mill ; 
While, with its sunny waters bright, 

The little pond is calm and still. 
The sloping banks and winding stream, 

With all their varied charms, are wove 
For Nature's children to admire, 

Who seek the walks of Walnut Grove. 

There oft in solemn hours shall come, 

In grief and woe, the burial trains, 
To place, beneath the broken turf, 

Of dearest friends the last remains. 
Oft by the green or flowery grave 

The silent mourners, too, will rove, 
To weep above the hallowed dust 

Of those who sleep in Walnut Grove. 

There weary age and childhood sweet, 

And youth and beauty, must be laid ; 
And manhood leave the busiest life 

To rest beneath the sombre shade. 
Yet, though their forms may slumber here, 

The spirits of the friends we love 
Still live in spheres unknown to those 

Who tread the paths of Walnut Grove. 



GEORGE OSGOOD. 385 

THE MASTER'S CALL AND LEAD. 

Written for the Graduating Exercises at the Divinity School, Cambridge, 1847. 

A S from these hallowed scenes we go, — 
These calm retreats of sacred lore, — 
O God, thy glorious presence show, 
To cheer us in the work before ! 

We seek the pure and holy light 

That in the life of Jesus shone, 
To guide us to the true and right, — 

The faith that rests on God alone ! 

With souls devoted to thy will, 

We dare not shrink from duty's call, 

But faithful to thy service still, 

Though weal or woe our lot befall. 

We would with lowly trust rely 

On every promise Jesus gave, 
Nor gaze with Peter's doubting eye 

Upon the wild and fearful wave ; 

But where we mark the Saviour's form 
Move calmly o'er life's changing sea, 

Unwavering meet the darkening storm, 
As those whose hope is fixed on thee. 



LINES IN AN ALBUM. 

From the " Exeter News-Letter." 

C\ MAIDEN, at the dawn of day, 

With pure and earnest feelings pray 
That in the strait and narrow way 

Thy feet may always tread ; 
And, in the silent hours of night, 
Seek from the source of strength and light, 
That on thy life no stain nor blight 

Of sin may e'er be shed. 

25 



386 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Now, in thy early womanhood, 
Keep every evil thought subdued, 
And make thy life so pure and good, 

So holy and serene, 
That, when thy days of life are flown, 
And thou from earth must go alone, 
Thy pathway, down the vale unknown, 

Shall reach some happier scene ! 



LINES ON THE LOSS OF A CHILD. 

'"PHE flower that opened to the light, 
All fresh with drops of early dew, 
Too soon was withered from our sight, 
And lost its bright and lovely hue. 

The bird whose notes we loved to hear, 
While sweet he sung at dawn of day, 

We saw depart and disappear 
In lonely forests, far away. 

The star, which rose above the hill 
And glittered on the rippling stream, 

We saw with hope and gladness, till 

The clouds concealed its cheering beam. 

The child that cheered us, day by day, 
And filled our home with light and glee, 

Soon sweetly, sadly passed away 
To joys, which now we may not see. 

As died the sweet, unfolding flower, 
As flew the bird that sung at dawn, 

As passed the star at evening's hour, 
So from our eyes the child has gone. 

The child, though absent from our sight, 
Among his guardian friends above, 

Shall ever live in memory's light, 
And ever in the light of love ! 



GEORGE OSGOOD. 387 

The following lines were occasioned by the death of Augustus F. 
Pierce, M.D., who was a member of Mr. Osgood's parish in Tyngs- 
borough, and who died at the early age of twenty-eight, greatly lamented 
by all who knew him, and loved and honored by a wide circle of friends. 
The lines originally appeared in the New York " Christian Inquirer." 



THE BELOVED PHYSICIAN. 

'T*HE year, as now it dies away 

Among its scenes of joy and gloom, 
Reminds us of that autumn day 

When we stood weeping by the tomb. 

The dying leaves and withering flowers 
Around our path in sadness fell ; 

No breezes waved the faded bowers, 
Nor moaned along the wooded dell. 

The clouds which overhung the sky 
Wore on their folds no golden hue ; 

The silent river sweeping by 

Sent back no gleam to cheer the view. 

We mourned for one whose smile no more 
Shall bless us on our weary way, 

Whose short and earnest life was o'er 
Ere time had tinged his locks with gray. 

When in the still and darkened room, 
Beside the bed of pain he stood, — 

There, 'mid the scenes of fear and gloom, 
His choicest work was doing good. 

The sufferer, in his hours of pain, 
Remembers well the work of him 

Who soothed his wild and aching brain 
When hopes of life seemed sad and dim. 

And all who marked the tender care 
With which his faithful work was done 

Might well rejoice to see how fair 

His love and skill could blend in one. 



388 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

The summer sky, the winter storm, 
The midnight, and the dawn of day 

Beheld his frail and manly form 
In duty's hard but noble way. 

In many a bright and happy home 

His name will long be heard with praise ; 

For grateful memories oft shall come 
Of him who cheered its darkest days. 

A tomb within a garden holds 

The form we sadly laid to rest, 
While with new life his soul unfolds, 

Within his Father's mansions blest. 

Tyngsboro', Dec. 31, 1855. 

TRIBUTE 
To the Memory of Rev. Dr. Willard,* of Deerfield, Mass. 

HPHE mountains wild and valleys fair 

Again in summer robes appear, 
And tender flowers are waving where 
The winter winds swept cold and clear. 

The ancient trees along the street 
Their graceful branches intertwine, 

To shade us from the burning heat, 
As the bright rays of noontide shine. 

The joyous birds at morn and eve 
Their sweetest songs delight to sing, 

And cheer the hearts of those who grieve 
Among the loveliest scenes of spring. 

The groups of children at their play 
Give hope and gladness to the scene ; 

As pass the happy hours away, 

Like sunlight o'er the village green. 

* Rev. Dr. Willard was a well-known blind preacher among the Unitarian 
Churches in Massachusetts. See the notice which we have given of him in the first 
part of this volume, with some of his hymns. 



GEORGE OSGOOD. 389 

Yet in the sunlight and the shade, 
One holy man no more is found ; 

On yonder hill his form is laid, 

To rest beneath the burial mound. 

When dying leaves in sadness fell, 

Beneath October's genial sun, 
In solemn tones the passing-bell 

Told that his earthly course was done. 

Beneath the old trees of his care, 
The people, that around him grew, 

Mourned sadly, as they gathered there 
To bid his hallowed face adieu. 

And, as they bore his form to rest, 

From all its sufferings, toil, and strife, 

They laid the white cross on his breast, — 
An emblem of his spotless life. 

And well that cross became the bier 
Of one whose calm and earnest faith 

Would never let him shrink with fear 
To go to prison or to death.* 

Oh ! once, when in the gathered crowd 

We saw his aged form arise, 
We felt that nought could ever cloud 

The truth that lit his sightless eyes. 

Like an apostle, he would dare 

To break the proud oppressor's rod, 

And without doubt or fear declare 
The counsel of the living God. 

* At a meeting of the Unitarian Association in his neighborhood, shortly after 
the passage of the Fugitive Slave Bill, Dr. Willard, in the face of opposition, de- 
nounced the measure, and declared that he could not obey it, but was ready to sub- 
mit to its penalty, which would carry him to prison ; and that imprisonment, at 
his age and with his infirmities, would be death. 



39° SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Like a true martyr, he would end 
His life in suffering, woe, and pain, 

And by his very death befriend 

The bondman flying from his chain. 

Like an old prophet, in his might, 

His noble form arose sublime, 
As for the cause of truth and right 

He dared denounce a nation's crime. 

His reverend form has passed away ! 

On the pure river's fruitful shore, 
In the full light of perfect day, 

The eyes we loved are dim no more. 

R. C. WATERSTON. 
(1812.) 

Rev. Robert Cassie Waterston, son of Robert Waterston, was born 
in Kennebunk, Me., in 1812 ; but from his infancy he has resided in 
Boston, Mass. He studied theology under Drs. Henry Ware and 
John G. Palfrey, at Cambridge ; for five years had the charge of a Sun- 
day school for the children of seamen ; for six years, also, was con- 
nected with the Ministry at Large and the Pitts Street Chapel in Boston ; 
and for seven years was pastor of the Church of the Saviour in the same 
city. He has, since then, supplied pulpits at Taunton, Newburyport, 
Roxbury, and elsewhere. In 1842 he published a small volume of 300 
pages on "Moral and Spiritual Culture," which passed through several 
editions ; and was republished in England and also in Ireland, — having 
had there abroad, as well as here in America, a large circulation. He 
received the degree of A.M. from Harvard College in 1844. 

Among his numerous published sketches, addresses, reports, dis- 
courses, treatises, poems, may be mentioned an article on Samuel 
Taylor Coleridge, published in the "North American Review" in 1834; 
"The Widow's Son, a Sketch from Real Life" (first .printed in the 
"Christian Examiner"), 1843; Discourse on the Life and Character 
of Judge Story and John Quincy Adams, 1845 and 1848 ; "Address on 
Pauperism," 1844; "Christianity applied to Cities," 1851 ; an article on 
the "Life and Works of Charles Robert Leslie, the Artist" (reprinted 
from the " North American Review "), 1861 ; Poem, delivered at the 
Boston English High School, 187 1 ; Remarks at a Special Meeting 
of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Dec. 16, 1873, on trie One 
Hundredth Anniversary of the Destruction of the Tea in Boston Harbor, 



R. C. WATERSTON. 391 

and printed in the published Proceedings of the occasion referred to, 
1874 ; and Remarks on Louis Agassiz, at a Memorial Meeting of the Boston 
Society of Natural History, Jan. 7, 1874. Mr. Waterston has rendered 
valuable service in the cause of Education, and, as the chairman of a 
committee, wrote an admirable report of the Boston Schools for the year 
1866, taking a wide survey of the systems of popular instruction that pre- 
vail in Europe and America, while he treated specially the immediate 
condition and needs of the city he represented. As a member of the 
Massachusetts Historical Society, he has taken an active part in its gen- 
eral proceedings, and contributed largely to the interest of its meetings 
by his papers or addresses. 

In 1845 he published a new edition of Greenwood's excellent Collec- 
tion of " Psalms and Hymns ; " connecting therewith a large number of 
supplementary hymns, that greatly enriched the book and adapted it to 
"a wider circle of wants." The enlarged as well as the original Compi- 
lation has been very extensively used by the Liberal Churches. In the 
supplement are contained not a few of Mr. Waterston's own hymns. 
These, with other pieces by the same writer, we present here in their 
authorized form. They have been highly commended by our most 
eminent bards, and some of them have passed into many volumes of 
sacred poetry. 

SUPPLICATION. 

C\ LORD of Life ! to thee we pray ; 

Send down thy Spirit from above, 
And fill, great Fount of Truth ! this day, 
Each mind with light, each heart with love. 

Here may a grateful people bow 

To Him who spake and it was done ; 

And ever be revered — as now 

Thy living word — thy loving Son. 

Long may this hallowed Temple stand, 
The hope of age, the joy of youth ; 

A sacred watch-tower in the land, 
A mighty battlement of Truth ! 

Thy suppliant children wilt thou bless, 
Conform our wills unto thine own, 

Give to thy glorious word success, 

And raise within each soul thy throne ! 



39 2 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



WORSHIP. 

/^REAT Source of Good, our God and Friend, 

Fountain of light and life divine ! 
Here thy adoring children bend, 
And pray to be for ever thine. 

With thy best blessings crown, O God, 
The servants of the Prince of Peace ; 

Widely extend Heaven's light abroad, 

Bid Knowledge reign and Faith increase ! 

Wisdom to us and Virtue give ; 

And by thy Spirit lead us still, 
With thee to walk, for thee to live, 

To love thy word, and do thy will. 

And, when our mission here is o'er, 

Oh, take us to thyself in love, 
To know thee better, serve thee more, 

And dwell with Christ in worlds above ! 



TRUTH* 

" The Truth endureth, and is always strong." 

HPHEORIES, which thousands cherish, 

Pass like clouds that sweep the sky ; 
Creeds and dogmas all may perish ; 
Truth herself can never die. 

From the glorious heavens above her, 

She has shed her beams abroad, 
That the souls who truly love her 

May become the sons of God. 

* This hymn was originally published in the "Religious Monthly," edited by 
Drs. Henry Ware and E. S. Gannett. It has since appeared in several Church 
Collections. 



R. C. WATERSTON. 393 

Thrones may totter, empires crumble, 

All their glories cease to be ; 
While Truth, Christ-like, crowns the humble, 

And from bondage sets them free. 

God himself will e'er defend her 

From the fury of her foe, 
Till she in her native splendor 

Sits enthroned o'er all below. 



GOD OF THE SOUL. 

C^ OD of the soul ! oh, help us to revere 

The mighty marvels thou hast centred here 
May no untimely frost, nor blight of sin, 
Blast that immortal life which buds within. 

Teach us to bow before the inward light, — 
The sense of wrong, the consciousness of right ; 
Kindle that faith which unto thee would soar, 
Know thee, obey thee, love thee, and adore ! 



THE SON OF GOD. 

TN ages past, majestic prophets came, 

Truth to reveal and speak with tongues of flame ; 
By wondrous paths Jehovah led their way, 
In signs of fire by night, and cloud by day. 

That prophet host, for this high mission born, 
Proclaimed the coming of a brighter morn ! 
The Star of Day hung quivering on their sight, 
And the broad East was all aglow with light ! 

Thus Jesus came, divinest gifts to bring, 
And publish truth from heaven's Eternal King ! 
Angelic choirs announced the sacred birth, 
Good-will from God, salvation to the earth ! 



394 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Celestial gates by Christ were open thrown, 
And bliss immortal round his pathway shone : 
Wide as the world his kingdom shall extend, 
And blessings flow, till time itself shall end ! 

HERE AND NOW. 

T OOK around thee ! say how long 
"^ Shall the earth be ruled by wrong ? 
When shall error flee away ? 
And this darkness turn to day ? 

When will evil from the soul 
Render back its dread control ? 
When shall all men duty see ? 
And the world be pure and free ? 

Rouse thee for the mental strife ! 
Gird thee for the task of life ! 
With the sword, and with the shield, 
Forward to the battle-field ! 

" On ! " a thousand voices cry, 
Through the earth, and from the sky ; 
" Up ! " — Heaven's light is on thy brow ! 
Let thy work be Here and Now ! 

FAITH AND LOVE. , 

/^LORIOUS that Faith which prompts to deeds of love, 
Seeks haunts of woe, and points to Heaven above ; 
Hastes swiftly forth, 'mid famine and despair, 
To make lone want the object of its care ! 

Divine that Love which girds the soul with might 
To vanquish wrong and vindicate the Right ! 
God send such Love and Faith : so may they now 
Beam from each eye, and kindle on each brow. 



J?. C. WATERSTON. 395 



NATURE AND THE SOUL. 

TN each breeze that wanders free, 

And each flower that gems the sod, 
Living souls may hear and see 
Freshly uttered words from God ! 

Had we but a searching mind, 
Seeking good where'er it springs, 

We should then true wisdom find, 
Hidden in familiar things ! 

God is present, and doth shine 

Through each scene beneath the sky, 

Kindling with a light divine 
Every form that meets the eye. 

Nature, with eternal youth, 
Ever bursts upon the sight ; 

All her works are types of truth, — 
Mirrors of celestial light ! 

But the soul, when veiled in sin, 
And eclipsed with fear and doubt, 

From the darkened world within, 
Throws its shade on that without. 

While to those who, pure in heart, 
For the Truth their powers employ, 

She will constant good impart, 
And diffuse perpetual joy. 

If the mind would Nature see, 
Let her cherish Virtue more ; 

Goodness bears the golden key 
That unlocks her palace-door i 



396 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

LOOKING UNTO CHRIST. 

(Never before published or used on any occasion.) 

TN darkest hours I hear a voice, 

Which comes my saddened heart to cheer, 
Saying in tones of love, — " Rejoice ! 
Jesus is near ! " 

In times of trial and dismay, 

Through the dark gloom of doubt and fear, 
There breaks a light, like dawning day, — 
"Jesus is near ! " 

When years autumnal tokens bring, 

And fading hopes seem dry and sear, 
Then bursts a bloom, like second spring, — 
" Jesus is near ! " 

Thus, when at length the veil shall rise, 

Will my enfranchised spirit hear, 
From angel-voices through the skies, — 
"Jesus is near ! " 

Not far away, but close at hand, 

A constant Friend, most true and dear ; 
Gladly I follow Heaven's command, 
With " Jesus near ! " 

FOR A RELIGIOUS FESTIVAL. 

f~\ God of Light and Love ! 

Look from thy throne above, 

And bliss impart ; 
While we as brothers meet, 
Holding communion sweet, 
Make thou our joy complete ; 

Bind heart to heart. 



R. C. WATERSTON. 397 

And as the opening spring 
From the brown earth doth bring 

Flowers into birth ; 
So may thy truth be heard, 
So by thy glorious word 
May every soul be stirred, 

O'er all the earth. 

God bless the Christian band, 
Who, through our wide-spread land, 

Go forth in might ; 
Where western rivers blend, 
Where ancient forests bend, 
May they the Truth defend, 

And scatter light. 

And o'er the ocean wide, 
Of the Atlantic tide, 

Bless those we love ; 
Touch them with holy flame, 
As, in Jehovah's name, 
They to the world proclaim 

Truth from above. 

Great God, with heavenly power, 
Fill thou this sacred hour ; 

Make us as one : 
May we united be ; 
Keep us from error free, — 
True to thy word and thee, 

True to thy Son. 

The above hymn was written for the Annual Meeting of the Unitarian 
clergy and laity, Boston, May 27, 1845. The Hon. John Quincy Adams 
presided, and made the introductory address. The interest was very 
great, and it was throughout a most memorable occasion, — by no one 
present ever to be forgotten. The following was sung as the fifth verse, 
in allusion to the venerable and illustrious presiding officer : — 

Bless thou the Patriot Sire, 
Who, warm with Freedom's fire, 
Spreads light abroad ; 



39^ SOA"GS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

He like a rock has stood 
'Mid strife of fire and flood, 
True to his country's good, 
True to his God. 

The Rev. Dr. Pierce, with his snow-white locks, at President Adams's 
right hand, led in the singing ; and, when this verse was commenced, he 
lifted up his arm and pointed to Mr. Adams, at the same time raising 
his voice to its utmost power, the vast multitude heartily uniting. The 
enthusiasm was literally beyond description. 



CHRISTIAN BENEVOLENCE. 

; Trust in the Lord and do good, and he shall bring it to pass." 



ORD of all, we bow before thee, 



r 

Pouring out our thoughts in song ; 
May we feel, while we adore thee, 

That to thee all things belong. 
Every hour thy love attends us ; 

And, amidst each outward ill, 
Thou art ready to befriend us, 

To protect and guide us still. 

May we, all these joys possessing, 

Think of those who have them not, 
And amid each outward blessing 

Let not others be forgot. 
Those are round us bowed in anguish, 

Fond hopes crushed and hearts betrayed, 
Who 'mid want and sickness languish, 

Perishing for lack of aid. 

By the Truth that Jesus taught us, 

By the Life that he made sure, 
By the Gospel that he brought us, 

Let us aid and love the poor ! 
Let us seek each haunt of sadness, 

Where sit Famine and Despair, 
Till each heart is filled with gladness, 

And each soul is raised in prayer. 






R. C. WATERSTON. 399 

HYMN. 

Written for a Sunday school. 

/^REAT God, in. heaven above, 
We offer up in love 

This hymn of praise ; 
Help us, Lord, to be 
True worshippers of thee, 
And keep us ever free 

From evil ways. 

May all our teachers feel 
A pure and holy zeal 

To serve thee well ; 
And may they, hand in hand, 
A blest and happy band, 
Lead children to that land 

Where angels dwell. 

May every opening mind 
Some true instruction find, 

Some glory see ; 
And, like the budding flower 
Beneath the summer's shower, 
Show tokens of that power 

Which comes from thee. 

ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD. 

Sung by her classmates. 

/^VNE bright flower has drooped and faded, 
^^^ One sweet infant-voice has fled ; 
One fair brow the grave has shaded ; 
One dear schoolmate now is dead. 

We would feel no pang of sadness, 

For our friend is happy now : 
She has knelt, in soul-felt gladness, 

Where the blessed angels bow. 



400 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

She is now where harps are ringing 
Through the heavenly courts above ; 

And her silvery voice is singing, 
With glad spirits, hymns of love. 

She has gone to heaven before us, 
But she turns and waves her hand, 

Pointing to the glories o'er us, 
In that happy spirit-land.- 

May our footsteps never falter 
In the path that she has trod ; 

May we worship at the altar 
Of the great and living God ! 

Lord, may angels watch above us, 
Keep us all from error free ; 

May they guard, and guide, and love us, 
Till, like her, we go to thee. 



ANNIVERSARY HYMN. 

TT7HEN Israel's host, in days of old, 

Had reached in joy a place of rest, 
They to their children's children told 

How righteous Heaven their sires had blest ; 
That God had led the appointed way, 
In fire by night, in cloud by day. 

Thus even now, O Lord, we stand, 
And gladly count thy blessings o'er ; 

Guarded and guided by thy hand, 
Thy sovereign love we would adore : 

Be with us here in gracious power, 

And crown with joy this festal hour. 



R. C. WATERSTON. 401 

Here, to this shrine, each heart has brought 

The tribute of its grateful love ; 
Guide thou the teachers and the taught, 

Oh, grant thy blessing from above ! 
And guard us still, 'mid hopes and fears, 
Even as thou hast through all our years. 

The above hymn was written for the celebration of the Fiftieth 
Anniversary of the settlement of the Rev. Dr. Pierce, of Brookline, 
March 15, 1847, at which time Dr. Pierce was seventy-four years of age. 
The last verse was as follows : — 

Oh, be thou still our Shield and Rock, 

Lead us where thou wouldst have us go ; — 

The shepherd, circled by his flock ; 
The patriarch, with locks of snow ! 

Oh, guard us still, 'mid hopes and fears, 

Even as thou hast for fifty years ! 



PARTING HYMN. 

This hymn was written at the request of the Rev. Dr. Gannett, for the memorial service 
of the Federal Street Meeting-House, March 13, 1S59, the church in which the Rev. Dr. 
Channing preached through the years of his active ministry, and to the close of his life, 
— the farewell service being there. This was the last hymn ever sung in that church. 

'T^HOU who did'st aid our sires to raise, 

Of old, this house of prayer and praise ! 
As from this sacred shrine we part, 
Touch thou each soul, inspire each heart. 

Thou, who hast here thy influence given, 
And made this place the gate of heaven, 
As hence we go, still grant each hour 
Thy guiding hand, thy quickening power. 

While the immortal ages last, 
Bless to each mind the hallowed Past ; 
The Future, Lord, with trust and prayer, 
We leave to thy protecting care ! 
2.6 



402 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



THE SOUL. 

HP HE soul does its own life to Nature give, 

Its tranquil beauty, or its fearful gloom ; 
And thus within Elysium it ma)' live, 
Or in appalling darkness fix its doom. 

E'en as the sun, by gazing on a cloud, 

Fills each dark fold with showers of golden light : 
So, when the storms of life are beating loud, 

May one true Thought make all around it bright. 

That scene which seems most desolate to Sin, 
To Virtue's eye becomes an Eden fair : 

The outward world takes hue from that within ; 
The blessing, or the curse, is centred there. 

Shall, then, the soul its honor cast away ? 

Changing for weakness its celestial might, 
Turn from the splendor of Eternal Day, 

And dash to earth its glorious crown of light ? 

Or, with a holy trust and faith sublime, 
Shall it pursue the path by angels trod, 

Taste joys immortal while it lives in time, 
And hold mysterious intercourse with God ? 

Deeper than ocean be its boundless love ; 

Higher than Heaven its aspirations rise, 
Bold on the wings of thought to soar above, 

And with far-spreading pinion sweep the skies. 

While Truth's pure beams around its pathway shine, 
A present heaven will dwell within the breast ; 

The kindling soul shall glow with life divine, 
And earth become like mansions of the blest ! 



R. C. WATERSTON. 4°3 

CEASELESS ASPIRATIONS. 

" The eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing." 

~^J~OT all the beauties of this joyous earth, 

Its smiling valleys or its azure sky, 
Or the sweet blossoms that in quiet mirth 

Turn their soft cheeks to winds that wander by, 
Can please enough the ear, or satisfy the eye ! 

The silver fountain, with its misty shower ; 

The curling wave, dissolving on the shore ; 
The clouds that feed with dew each infant flower ; 

The small stream's gentle song, the ocean's roar, — 
All give the mind delight, and yet it seeks for more ! 

Thus doth the soul, by its innate desire, 
Give inward prophecy of what shall be ! — 

The spirit struggling, higher yet, and higher, 
Panting for light, and restless to be free, 

Foreshadows in itself its immortality ! * 

MORTAL AND IMMORTAL. 

" In soul, man mounts and flies ; 
In flesh he dies : 
Not that he may not here 
Taste of the cheer ; 
But as birds drink, and straight lift up their head, 
So may he sip, and think 
Of better drink 
He may attain to, after he is dead.' ' 

Herbert. 

T STAND between the Future and the Past, — 
That which has been and that which is to be ; — 

A feeble ray from the Eternal cast ; 

A scanty rill, that seeks a shoreless sea ; 

A living soul, treading this earthly sod ; 

A finite being, yet a child of God ! 



404 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

A body crumbling to the dust away ; 

A spirit panting for eternal peace ; 
A heavenly kingdom in a frame of clay ; 

An infant-angel fluttering for release ; 
An erring man, whose race has just begun ; 
A pilgrim, journeying on from sun to sun ! 

Creature of clay, yet heir of future life ; 

Dweller upon a world I shall outlive ; 
Soldier of Christ, battling midst earthly strife, 

Yet hoping, by that strength which God may give, 
To burst the doors of death, and glorying rise 
Triumphant from the grave, to tread the skies ! 



THE CROWN OF LIFE. 

1 She hath received a glorious kingdom, and a beautiful crown from the Lord's hand." 

r I 'HE veil has dropped ; her spirit now, 

Intense with life, hath soared above : — 
Where angels and archangels bow, 

She breathes her holy hymns of love. 
The seed hath sprung into a tree ! 
The flower hath burst its bud ! The immortal soul is free ! 

Oh, death is full of life ! Nought dies 

But that which should. Earth takes its own, 

That the ethereal may arise, 

And dwell by the Eternal Throne. 

Thus comes the full outshining light 
Of that unending Morn, which knows no night. 

Gaze on that form : nay, lift thine eye, 

And gaze above. She is not here ; 
She hath arisen to worlds on high, 

And dwelleth in a purer sphere. 
That frame of dust she hath laid down, 
To gain a robe of light, and a celestial crown ! 



R. C. WATERSTON. 405 

The veil has dropped. Her inward eye 

Has seen the mysteries of God • 
And onward, through the star-paved sky, 

'Mid heaven's bright glory she has trod. 
Angels, around, their joyous notes prolong, 
While her sweet voice unites in their triumphant song ! 



THE DEPARTED. 

*' Compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses." 
Ne#os ixapTvpuiv. 

(^ENIUS for us has wrought, 

Martyrs have bravely died midst flood and 
fire, 
And patriots gladly sought 
Within our souls fresh valor to inspire ! 

Their voice is on the air ; 
They speak in every breeze, where'er we roam ; 

They bid us guard with care 
The virtues of our country and our home. 

Their influence fills the Past 
With noble thoughts and generous deeds sublime, 

Rich legacies — to last 
From sire to son, throughout all coming time. 

The present hour is theirs • 
Of half our good are they the Primal Cause ; 

Their struggles, hopes, and prayers, 
Have given to us both Liberty and Laws. 

The Nations have their dead, — 
Brave souls, that like the stars of light do shine ; 

Great spirits, who have led 
Benighted millions on to life divine. 

And saintly forms above, 
Gentle and fair, may hover o'er the earth* 

And bend in holy love 
O'er each sad heart that mourns departed worth. 



406 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAfTH. 

O, might some heavenly hand 
Draw back the shadowy curtains of the sky, 

That once that glorious band 
Of bright angelic souls could meet the eye ! 

But they are with us still 
In thought and deed. Yes, they are with us here, 

To sanctify the will, 
To soothe each grief, and calm each idle fear. 

At the soft sunset hour, 
When evening's splendors melt along the sky, 

We feel their hallowing power 
To kindle faith and raise the heart on high. 

The mystery of life ! 
O who can sound its depths ? Its bliss ? its woe ? 

Its fears ? its hopes ? its strife ? — 
Their meaning all, — not men nor angels know ! 

We are fast hastening on : 
Soon must the path of death by us be trod : 

When life's great work is done, 
May we be with Heaven's host, and with our God ! 

Our faith, our works of love, 
Our charity within the haunts of woe, — 

When we shall soar above, 
The influence of these must live below. 

The memory of the just 
Shall still be dear, whate'er their earthly lot : 

Dust may return to dust, 
But Virtue lives, and cannot be forgot. 



Mrs. Anna C. L. Waterston, the wife of Rev. Robert C. Waterston, 
is the youngest daughter of the late Hon. Josiah Quincy, of Boston, and 
grand -daughter of Josiah Quincy, Jr., of Revolutionary memory. She 
was married in '1840. Some of her verses were printed in 1863, in a 
small volume, from which we take two pieces, adding two others which 
were written shortly afterward. 



ANNA C. L. WATERSTON. 40J 

In explanation of the first lines which we copy, it may be said that 
they refer to the young and beautiful daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Water- 
ston, who, after having with her parents passed two years in Europe, 
and, just as they were all about to return home, died at Naples, July 25, 
1858. She was born on the 6th day of January, — the date being that 
of the Epiphany. Edmund Quincy, in his "Life of Josiah Quincy," 
thus writes of his venerated father in connection with the afflicting event 
of her death : " While his latter days went down blest with all that 
should accompany good old age, he was not exempted from the bereave- 
ments and sorrows which are also its inevitable attendants. In the mid- 
summer of 1858, his grand-daughter, Helen Ruthven Waterston, the 
only surviving child of his daughter Anna, died at Naples, Italy, at the 
age of seventeen years. I need not describe the grief which the un- 
timely blighting of this fair blossom brought to him and to us all." Of 
this dear child the poet Bryant thus wrote in his " Letters from Spain : " 
" I confess I felt a degree of pride in so magnificent a specimen of my 
countrywomen as this young lady presented, — uncommonly beautiful 
in person, with a dignity of presence and manner much beyond her 
years, and a sweetness no less remarkable than the dignity." And the 
poet Whittier has made her the motive of one of the most exquisite of 
his recent lesser poems, which he entitles "Naples, i860." 



THE EPIPHANY. 

"And the star stood over where the young child lay." Jan. 6, 1841 (the birthday 
of H. R. W.). 

TN life's horizon rose a star 
Upon that sacred night : 
The light it brought from worlds afar 
Blest seventeen years of sight. 

It shone upon a Northern home, 

A star of morning fair, — 
Glanced on the ocean's stormy foam, 

And gladdened English air. 

O'er Alpine mountain-tops it glowed ; 

And, with a gentle ray, 
Where Rhine and Neckar calmly flowed, 

Lit up a poet's way. 

It passed o'er far Italian lands, — 

The fairest earth can show ; 
Where Genius at Art's altar stands, 

And flowers of beauty grow. 



408 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

The steep Etruscan towns are seamed 
With age and wound and scar ; 

Yet hues of youth upon them gleamed, 
Reflected from that star. 

Light on old storied Rome it shed 

(By time and tempest riven) ; 
While many there looked up, and said, 

" It is a light from heaven." 

But where the tideless sea of blue 

Reflects a burning height, 
God took that star of heavenly hue, 

And shut it from earth's sight. 

Since then, the sun and moon have shone, — 

Orbs fair by day and night ; 
Dimly they shine to me, alone, 

Without that holier light. 

But life's horizon widens round, 

Beyond their path afar ; 
And, when I pass their circle's bound, 

I shall behold my star. 

ON AN ENGRAVING OF THE CRUCIFIXION BY 
HENRY GOLTZIUS, 1583. 

VX 70RK of a hand whose graver cut 

Deep in the steel the vision given 
Unto unsealed eyes of Faith, 

When ancient Art drew nigh to heaven ! 

Dark roll the awful clouds above 
The city of the faithless crowd, 
While on the rude and bark-stript tree 

The thorn-crowned head is meekly bowed ; 

• 

And, gazing on the Sufferer there, 

Three friends are watching through the night : 

Yet falter not ; — they know the sign 

That makes death, life ; and darkness, light. 



ANNA C. L. WATERSTON. 409 

Between me and that scene is thrown 

No hue of color ; to my eyes 
The gulf of time is spanned, and bears 

The impress of the sacrifice. 

I know the sign, and fain would cling 
In hope beside the faithful Three ; 

And watch the mighty love upraised 

Upon the blood-stained, bark-stript tree. 

TOGETHER. 

A tribute to Colonel Robert G. Shaw, who fell, July 18, 1863, at Fort Wagner, at the 
head of his brave colored men of the 54th Massacbusetts Volunteer Regiment. 

r\ FAIR-HAIRED Northern hero, 

With thy guard of dusky hue ! 
Up from the field of battle 
Rise to the last review. 

Sweep downward, holy angels, 

In legions dazzling bright, 
And bear these souls together 

Before Christ's throne of light. 

The Master, who remembers 

The cross, the thorns, the spear, 
Smiles on the risen Freedmen, 

As their ransomed souls appear. 

And thou, young, generous spirit, 

What will thy welcome be ? 
" Thou hast aided the down-trodden, 

Thou hast done it unto Me." 

INSTALLATION HYMN. 

Written for the installation of Rev. Alfred P. Putnam as pastor of the Church of the 
Saviour, Brooklyn, N.Y., Sept. 28, i86j. 

"[VrO Sabbath hush, to-day, has led 

Our thoughts towards this house of prayer, 
But surging sounds of toil and strife 
Were vibrant on the autumn air. 



4IO SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

From out our busy life we come, 
And at the sacred altar pause, 

With rites to consecrate anew 

This servant to the Master's cause, — 

That Master whose pervading eye 

Viewed the vast scene of tireless work ; 

And gave alike his thought and care 

Where saints could kneel, or sinners lurk. 

The crowded haunts of men diverged 
From near the Temple's lofty shrine : 

In both, the Anointed Teacher stood, 
With healing touch, with word divine. 

Within these walls, 'mid yonder crowd, 
O Father, grant thafnow, as then, 

By holy deeds, and fervent words, 
The Master be revealed again ! 



THOMAS HILL. 
(1818.) 

Rev. Thomas Hill, D.D., LL.D., was born at New Brunswick, N.J., 
Jan. 7, 18 18. His parents were both of English birth, his mother being 
a grand-niece of Joshua Toulmin, the biographer of Socinus, and an emi- 
nent Unitarian minister as well as author. Mr. and Mrs. Hill both died 
while the son was at an early age. When only twelve years old, he was 
apprenticed to a printer, with whom he remained three years. Subse- 
quently he was for three years, also, an apothecary's boy. In May, 1838, 
he left the apothecary shop, and began to study Latin and Greek with Rev. 
Mr., now Dr., Rufus P. Stebbins. He graduated at Harvard College in 
1843, and at the Cambridge Divinity School in 1845. He tnen went to 
Philadelphia, in the hope of establishing a Second Unitarian Church in 
that city. In the same year, December 24, he was ordained pastor of the 
Unitarian Church at Waltham, Mass., where he remained for fourteen 
years. In 1859, after the death of Horace Mann, he succeeded that dis- 
tinguished educator as the President of Antioch College, Ohio ; and when 
this institution was closed for a time, in consequence of the breaking out 
of the war, he was called to the Presidency of Harvard College. He 



THOMA S HILL. 4 1 1 

continued in the latter position for six years, when he was obliged to sur- 
render it by very severe domestic afflictions, which greatly impaired his 
health. In the winter of 1870-71, he represented the town of Waltham 
in the Massachusetts Legislature. Still later, he accompanied Agassiz 
in the voyage of the "Hassler." He was installed pastor of the First 
Parish in Portland, Me., May 18, 1873. 

Dr. Hill's sermons and addresses, printed in pamphlet form, and his 
contributions to magazines, reviews, and newspapers, have been very 
numerous, and have been generally scientific, theological, or religious in 
their aim and character. He was the first person to propose daily pre- 
dictions of the weather, founded on telegraphic reports, which he did 
in a series of articles in the " City Item," of Philadelphia, in the winter 
and spring of 1847-48. He published a little book, entitled "Geometry 
and Faith," in 1849, and has also given to the press, in separate form, 
several mathematical treatises, beside furnishing many able and valu- 
able mathematical articles to the periodicals, to Appleton's Cyclopaedia, 
and to the American Scientific Association. He was the inventor of an 
instrument, now the property of the Observatory at Harvard College, 
which predicts the phases of eclipses and occupations, for any latitude or 
longitude. In 1859 he published a volume of sermons, "Jesus the Inter- 
preter of Nature." Dr. Hill received the degree of D.D. from Harvard 
College in i860, and that of LL.D. from Yale College in 1863. 

While he has attained to so much eminence in the departments of 
Science, Education, and Theology, it is not so well known that he has, 
during many years, written or translated several hundred hymns or 
poems of decided excellence. Perhaps two-thirds of the number have 
been original compositions, and the large proportion of them which he 
has published have been given to the " Christian Register," " Christian 
Examiner," "Phonographic Magazine," the "Atlantic," "Putnam's 
Monthly," the " Monthly Magazine," and other papers and periodicals, 
generally appearing under the letters "H. T.," "T.," "H.," "Z ," &c. 
The first of these was printed in the " Christian Register," in 1838. They 
reveal at once the author's well-known love and appreciation of Nature, 
his strong and fervent Christian faith, and his familiar acquaintance with 
the laws of metrical versification. From scattered sources we bring 
together and place before our readers the following pieces, only wishing 
we had room for others at our command. 

INSTALLATION HYMN. 

Originally written by Dr. Hill for his own ordination in 1843, but altered for his installa- 
tion in f873. 

f~\ THOU whose spirit Moses did inspire, 
^^^ And touched the prophets' lips with holy fire, 
But brightest glowed in Jesus Christ our Lord, — 
The midday glory of the eternal word, — 



412 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

With heavenly light thy servant here inspire ! 
Touch thou his lips with true prophetic fire ! 
Teach him to utter boldly all thy word, 
Yet meekly follow his ascended Lord. 

That from his lips the glowing truth may burn 
Deep in our hearts, to life our deadness turn ; 
And, by his guidance led, at length may we 
Come to the fold of Christ, to heaven, and thee. 

The following is a hymn that was written for the ordination of Rev. 
Martin W. Willis, in 1843, t> ut altered, like the other, for the writer's 
own installation : — 

THE ETERNAL WORD. 

r I A HE whispering sea, the thundering surf, 

The peaceful vale, the mountain height, 
The wind, the storm, the darkening cloud, 
And heaven's all-glorious orbs of light, — 
These are thy ministers, O God ! 
These are the preachers of thy word. 

But not through these alone, thy words 
Our drowsy souls to life awake ; 
The Eternal Word, thy truth and light, 
From Jesus' lips and actions break ; 
We would with love and reverence hear, 
And in obedient faith draw near. 

O Father ! fill the hearts of those 
Who speak in Jesus' holy name, 
With all the power of truth and love ; 
With love like that in which He came 
To hang on Calvary's awful tree, 
And draw our conquered hearts to thee. 

DEDICATION HYMN. 

Written for the dedication of the Unitarian Church, in Walpole, N.H., in 1843. 

"OEGIRT with wood-crowned hills, 

In loveliness arrayed, 
This vale, a temple built by God, 
Was for his worship made. 



THOMAS HILL. 413 

The birds, at early dawn, 

To him their matins raise ; 
The water's roar, at evening, brings 

Its vesper-hymn of praise. 

While Nature lifts its voice, 

We would not silent be, 
But gladly, Lord, these walls have raised, 

In which to worship thee. 

Here let the holy font, 

The supper's sacred rite, 
And living word of truth, impart 

Their sanctifying light. 

With thine own presence bless 

This house for us, O God ! 
Help us to honor Jesus' name, 

And spread thy truth abroad. 



CARPE DIEM. 

These lines are clipped from a newspaper. The song sang itself to the author one summer 
morning in 1864, before he arose. 

T3UILD not on to-morrow, 

But seize on to-day ! 
From no future borrow, 
The present to pay. 

Wait not any longer 

Thy work to begin ; 
The worker grows stronger, — 

Be steadfast and win. 

Forebode not new sorrow, — 

Bear that of to-day, 
And trust that to-morrow, 

Shall chase it away. 



414 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

The task of the present 

Be sure to fulfil ; 
If sad, or if pleasant, 

Be true to it still. 

■* 

God sendeth us sorrow 
And cloudeth our day ; 

His sun on the morrow 
Shines bright on our way. 



QUANDO VENIET LUX? 

From the "Monthly Magazine," June, 1866. 

TN this green lane we often walked, 
And oft my heart within me burned, 
As did the hearts of those returned 
From Emmaus, who with Christ had talked. 

The golden hand of Spring has thrown 
Again the king-cup by the hedge, 
And strewed with calthas yonder sedge ; 

But I walk down the lane alone. 

No Spring's returning hand has power 
To bring thee to my side again ; 
The south-wind woos the grave in vain ; 

In vain the sun, or vernal shower. 

The bobolink soars, as soars the lark, 
And pours his sweetness o'er the lawn ; 
Rejoicing in the earliest dawn 

The more, the more the night was dark. 

A deeper darkness death than night : 
When shall its awful shadows break ? 
Its slumberers to life awake ? 

What songs shall hail that holier light ? 



THOMAS HILL. 415 

REDEEMING LOVE. 

From the " Monthly Magazine," March, i858. 

f~\ LORD ! the riches of thy grace 

As far transcend my sorest needs 
As thy blue heaven's unbounded space 
Outspreads the circle of my deeds. 

I sank beneath my weight of woe, 

Beneath the burden of my fears ; 
Thy grace bade every terror go, 

And changed to laughter all my tears. 

Black was the night my sins had made, 
Sore anguish racked my troubled breast \ 

Thy grace dispelled the awful shade, 
And bathed my soul in heavenly rest. 

How infinite my debt, O Lord ! 

Yet I behold in Jesus' face, 
I hear in his life-giving word, 

The pledge of thy forgiving grace. 

My trust is still thy boundless love ; 

My strength is thine almighty arm ; 
Nor time, nor death, my faith shall move ; 

Net hell itself thy child can harm. 



EASTER HYMN. 

From the " Monthly Magazine," June, 1869. 

INTERNAL Father! at whose word 
Creation flashed to instant birth, 
Thy will, which gave this body life, 
Bids it return to lifeless earth. 

But thou didst send that risen Lord, 
Who once in Joseph's garden lay, 

Burst from the night of transient death, 
And called us to immortal day. 



416 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH, 

In his dear name we ask thy help, 

By faith in him to live and die ; 
That, when our bodies sleep in dust, 

We may with him ascend on high. 

Eternal Father ! by thy word 

Raise us from sin and death's dark night ; 
That we may even now with Christ 

Dwell in the realms of heavenly light. 

MEMORIAL HALL. 

Written for the laying of the corner-stone of Memorial Hall, Cambridge, Oct. 6, 1870. 

/^\H, holy is the golden light 
^ Of the October day, 
When summer leaves in dolphin-hues 
Of beauty pass away. 

But holier the mellow glow 

Fond memory throws around 
The names of those whose noble lives 

A noble death has crowned. 

More brilliant than on forest-trees 

The ripened leaf can be, 
The splendor of their glorious deeds 

For God and Liberty. 

For ever hallowed are these shades, 

Where, in the bloom of youth, 
They consecrated every power 

To Christ, his Church and Truth. 

And hallowed is their native land, 
For which their strength they gave, 

To serve her in her hour of need, — 
Then filled the hero's grave. 

More lasting than this sacred hall 

Their deathless fame shall be, 
Wreathed in a nation's gratitude 

Through all eternity. 



THOMAS HILL. 417 



ANTIOPE. 

Written in the Straits of Magellan, in the spring of 1872, and published in the " Monthly 
Magazine/' May, 1873. 

A T dead of night a south-west breeze 

Came silently stealing along ; 
The bluebird followed at break of day, 
Singing his low, sweet song. 

The breeze crept through the old stone-wall, 
And wakened the butterfly there ; 

And she came out, as morning broke, 
To float through the sunlit air. 

Within this stormy, rifted heart 

The softening influence stole, 
Filling with melodies divine 

The chambers of my soul ; 

With gentle words of hope and faith, 

By lips now sainted spoken ; 
With vows of tenderest love toward me, 

Which never once were broken. 

At morn my soul awoke to life, 

And glowed with faith anew ; 
The buds that perish swelled without, 

Within the immortal grew. 



SUBMISSION. 

From the M Monthly Magazine," May, 1873. 

f~\ GOD, mine eyes and ears unseal 
^^^ To see thine angels ever near, 
And hear their voices ; may I feel 
Nor rebel pride, nor slavish fear. 
27 



41 8 SOA r GS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

I bless thee for the holy joys 

Thy grace has taught my glowing heart ; 
Henceforth thy will be all my choice, — 

I could not choose a better part. 

Each dearest hope, each anxious fear, 
My fondest longings, I would still ; 

I lay them on thine altar here, 
And only seek to do thy will. 

"OUT OF THE DEPTHS." 

From the " Monthly Magazine," August, 1873. 

(~\ GOD, my agony is great ! 

Yet thine the hand that struck the blow ; 
Help me in patient hope to wait, 
Till thy full purpose I may know. 

I know thou dost not wound in vain, 
For thou art love, and changest not : 

Thou sendest both the joy and pain 
That vary still my earthly lot. 

I'll think of dread Gethsemane, — 
Of all my Saviour's anguish there ; 

And then the burden laid on me 
Becomes as light as summer air. 

GOD, OUR ETERNAL JOY. 

From the " Monthly Magazine," December, 1873. 

f~\ THOU, whose boundless power and love 

Still with unerring wisdom move, 
And, thy grand purpose to fulfil, 
Command creation at thy will, — 

What duty or what bliss have I 
But trustful in thy hand to lie ? 
My only strength and wisdom, Lord, 
Are strict obedience to thy word. 



JOHN WEISS. 4 T 9 

Let not my wayward passions draw 
My rebel-heart to hate thy law ; 
But let almighty grace control, 
To sweet submission, all my soul. 

The joys and comforts I have known 
Flowed from thy bounteous hand alone : 
Let all my hope and longing be 
To ftfrd, for ever, joy in thee. 



JOHN WEISS. 
(1818.) 

Rev. John Weiss was born in Boston, Mass., June 28, 1818. He 
was a pupil, first, of Chauncy Hall School in his native city, and after- 
ward in Framingham Academy. He graduated at Harvard College in 
1837 ; was subsequently employed in teaching in Chauncy Hall, and at 
Jamaica Plain ; and in 1840 entered the Cambridge Divinity School, grad- 
uating in 1843. He s P ent tne winter of 1842-43 in Heidelberg Univer- 
sity. He was ordained as pastor of the Unitarian Church at Watertown, 
Mass., as the successor of Rev. Convers Francis, D.D., in October, 1843. 
Two years later, he resigned his charge in consequence of his strong 
Anti- Slavery convictions. He was recalled, however, in April, 1846. 
Again resigning his position, he was installed as pastor of the First Con- 
gregational Society in New Bedford, December, 1847. Ill-health obliged 
him to surrender this new trust in the following spring ; and, removing to 
Milton, he engaged in lecturing, and also preached for the Hollis Street 
Church in Boston. In June, 1869, he was once more invited back to the 
Watertown Church, but declined the call, that he might devote himself 
mainly to literary pursuits. In 1873 ne removed to Boston, where he 
now resides. 

Among his lectures are several courses upon Greek Religious Ideas ; 
twelve lectures upon Humor in Shakespeare, and Shakespeare's Women ; 
others on Music, and others still upon topics of Free Religion. In 
1845 ne Published an American and also an English edition of the 
" Philosophical and ./Esthetic Letters and Essays of Schiller, translated, 
with an Introduction ; " Preface to an American Edition of Smith's 
Memoir of Fichte, 1846; "Life and Correspondence of Theodore 
Parker," two vols., American edition, 1864, English edition, same year ; 
and "American Religion," 187 1. From 1845 t0 l %74 ne published forty 



420 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

sermons and lectures. Among these were notable utterances in relation 
to the Free Soil Movement, the Rendition of Anthony Burns, and the 
general subject of Slavery and the War. The list of Mr. Weiss's pub- 
lished magazine articles, essays, and poems, include eleven in the 
" Christian Examiner," from 1846 to 1866, the principal ones being two 
upon the German Catholic Movement of John Ronge and the Friends of 
Light, one upon Motley's Dutch Republic, one upon Thoreau, and one 
upon White's Shakespeare ; sixteen in the " Atlantic Monthly," among 
which are " Some Soldier Poetry," and the "Horrors of San Domingo," 
the latter being continued through several numbers ; three poems in the 
" Galaxy ; " an article on Haiti, in " Old and New ; " fourteen in " The 
Radical," the most important being "Dangers of our Political Machin- 
ery," "Principles," "Religion and Science," "George Washington," 
"Man the Temple," "The Essential Jesus," "Natural Warnings," and 
"Woman Suffrage." Beside these have been several other poems, and 
various book-reviews. These productions, generally, we need scarcely 
add, are marked by a striking originality and brilliancy of thought and 
expression, by an intense intellectual power and earnestness of convic- 
tion, and by an evidence of scholarly and literal y attainments, which 
have given to this radical preacher and author a leading position in the 
school to which he belongs. In all the long protracted struggle for the 
emancipation of the slave, and for the establishment of justice and freedom 
in the land, Mr. Weiss bore his brave and unfaltering testimony for the 
right, with Willard, Pierpont, Parker, Furness, Clarke, and others, whose 
names have already appeared on our pages. 

The following hymn was written by him for Visitation Day, when 
he graduated from the Divinity School, in 1843. I* i s taken from 
the "Book of Hymns." Parts of it are printed in the "Hymns of 
the Spirit," and in Bulfinch's "Harp and Cross." The few verbal altera- 
tions which have been made in this hymn, and in the one that succeeds 
it, from their original form, are by Mr. Weiss himself. 



EPIPHANY. 

A WONDROUS star our pioneer, 

We left the mystic land 
Where heaven-nurtured childhood slept, 
Where yet old visions stand. 

O God ! the land of dreams we left, 

Repose we left for aye, 
And followed meekly to the place 

Where our Redeemer lay. 






JOHN WEISS. 42 c 

That humble manger we have found ; 

The world his cradle is ; 
His life is hidden far below 

Its sins and miseries. 

The world throws wide its brazen gates, 

With thee to enter in ; 
O, grant us, in our humble sphere, 

To free that world from sin. 

We have one mind in Christ our Lord 

To stand and point above ; 
To hurl rebuke at social wrong ; 

But all, O God, in love. 

The star is resting in the sky : 

To worship Christ we came ; 
The moments haste ! O, touch our tongues 

With thy celestial flame ! 

The truest worship is a life ; 

All dreaming we resign ; 
We lay our offerings at thy feet, — 

Our lives, O God, are thine ! 



FOR A SUMMER FESTIVAL. 

From the " Book of Hymns." 

"DENEATH thy trees to-day we met, 

Amid thy summer flowers ; 
And every heart is blessing yet 
These happy, fleeting hours. 

But. creeping shades to vespers call, 

And timely love impart, 
To make our latest shadows fall 

From sunshine in the heart. 



422 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Yes, even so : the summer leaf, 
The summer flowers, declare 

Their childlike, chastening belief, 
That thou dost make them fair. 

0, let us cherish nature's creed, 
And live and bloom to thee ; 

For only childlike hearts, we read, 
Can grace eternity. 



ORDINATION HYMN. 

Written by Mr. Weiss for his own ordination at Watertown, Oct. 25, 1843. This hymn 
appears in no printed Collection. 

A MEMORY of vanished dreams, 

Young wishes, hopes, in fading gleams 
Still linger, but their life has fled ; 
To-day must rank them with the dead. 

Thy servant's sandals still are wet 
With Jordan's wave but lately met ; 
And in that sacred river fall 
The olden thoughts, the spirit's pall. 

He stands upon a holy land, 
Great spirits hold his trustful hand ; 
A Jordan sanctifies the breast, 
A Christ now leads him to his rest. 

His rest ? His battle ! He must win 
Fair Zion's gate through ranks of sin ; 
Why are these words, this solemn show, 
If sin be not his deadly foe ? 

There comes in light no heavenly host, 
No fiery tongues of Pentecost ; 
No gentle dove with winnowing wings 
The Spirit to thy servant brings. 



JOHN WEISS. 423 

The still, small voice hath called him here, 
And thus is God himself most near ; 
My people, lift a heart in prayer, 
And keep your God for ever there. 



The following pieces, contributed to this volume, have never before 
been published : — 

BLEST SPIRIT OF MY LIFE. 

"DLEST spirit of my life, oh, stay ! 

Let not this rapture vanish soon ; 
For thus my earth is snatched away, 
And lifted into heaven's noon. 

How clear the vision ! how serene 

The air through which my thoughts aspire ! 

My narrow clay they leave to glean 
In fields of infinite desire. 

Oh, greatest grief of many days, 

It is that thou, my heaven, art 
So far, so faintly come the rays 

That kindle heaven in my heart. 

To-day a prisoner on leave 

Am I : must I to bounds return ? 

Then make me blest that I can grieve, 
And satisfied that I can yearn. 

Thou Light, that makest lesser lights 
To shine, burn up my cloudy sky ! 

To morning change my frequent nights ; 
Drop planets to me from on high. 

* 
My hope is wide to take them in, 

Deeper than sight do I adore ! 

I am a little sail to win 

In thy great breath my native shore. 



424 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



HOPE OF IMMORTALITY. 

"HPIS the youth in all my motion, 

'Tis the blush upon my cheek ; 
Daily a persisting ocean 

Fills and leaves my little creek. 

Though its lines may shift and alter, 
Still there rides the Holy Ghost ; 

Till the tide itself shall falter, 
There must always be a coast. 

Can the sky forbid its cunning 

Waves that mould and wet my lips ? 

Will Eternity, set running, 
Me alone contrive to skip ? 

'Tis the vein within that dances 

To the piping of my youth ; 
'Tis the very thought that glances 

Doubts across the noon of truth. 

'Tis the pang my heart that seizes, 

When my vice invades its hall ; 
'Tis the God who grants fresh leases, 

Granting breath to stand or fall. 

'Tis the rhyme where Heaven fits me, 

Ocean's rote to every shore ; 
Sense, intent, and chord that hits me, 

When the less doth crave the more. 

•o^o^ 

JOHN W. WEIDEMEYER. 
(1819.) 

John W. Weidemeyer was born at Fredericksburg, Va., and was of 
German parentage. He has lived mostly in New York City, Brooklyn, 
and vicinity. He finished his educational studies in the grammar school 
of Columbia College ; taught during several years at a seminary near 






JOHN W. WEIDEMEYER. 425 

Dayton, Ohio ; married Miss Mary C. Hartt, at Lansingburgh, N.Y., 
in 1851 ; and now resides in New York City, where for many years he 
has been engaged in business. 

When a boy, he wrote anonymously for Horace Greeley's "New 
Yorker," and for others of the metropolitan weeklies ; in early manhood 
contributed several poems to " Godey's Lady's Book," and to sundry 
Western periodicals, and also published some monographs and cata- 
logues on subjects connected with the natural history of our own coun- 
try ; in 1865 gave to the press a small collection of poems, entitled 
" Real and Ideal," which received high encomiums from Fitz-Greene Hal- 
leck and other competent authorities or critics ; and in 1867 published 
a larger edition of the latter, under the title of " Themes and Transla- 
tions," the name of the author in each edition appearing as "John W. 
Montclair." The later volume was favorably noticed by such stern and 
fearless reviews as the " British Quarterly," the " Westminster Review," 
"Triibner's London Literary Record," and the "London Bookseller." 
Occasional pieces have since been printed, under the author's real name, 
in the New York "Liberal Christian," the "Atlantic Monthly," and 
other publications. 

From " Themes and Translations," we take the two following poems, 
both of them being among Mr. Weidemeyer's original productions. 



HAPPINESS. 

TLTAPPY the man, who, sauntering on his way, 

By thought supplants life's solitude and gloom 
To his keen relish blooms the weedy path, 
The trodden grass dispenses sweet perfume. 

Happy : to him disorder fashions laws 

That into oneness shape each fragment part ; 

To him earth's stricken and repulsive forms 
Bespeak the affluence of Nature's art. 

Thrice happy he who musing sports his days 
Upon the greensward, by the mystic tree ; 

His longings there are lifted to the clouds, 
And starward bound, unto eternity. 

And, though his feet be planted on the earth, 
The wave of spirit-voice shall carry him 

Where he may claim his heritage of birth, 
In practised speech with kindred seraphim. 



426 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



THE SPIRIT'S REVELATION. 

" And she sits and gazes at me 

With those deep and tender eyes, 
Like the stars, so still and saint-like, 
Looking downward from the skies." 

Henry W. Longfellow. 

"pORMS beloved, whose memory haunts me, 

In mementoes near me dwell ; 
Oft they come in evening visions, 
Or in dreams their legends tell. 

Sad and lonely, but unspoken 

Fancy reaches far away ; 
When some sudden thrill awakes me, 

And a seraph seems to say : 

" Though we may not break the secret 

That the gates of death reveal, 
In the gray night's gloom and stillness, 

Drawn toward the earth we feel. 

" For there is a strange communion 

'Twixt men and our spirit-band ; 
Oft in omens we approach ye, 

Brethren of our ancient land. 

" From the glittering orb of even, 

Gliding down upon its beams, 
Noiseless as the step of Zephyr, 

Do we visit you in dreams. 

" At the couch of all true-hearted, 
Stand we guardian, in their sleep ; 

For the loved ones left behind us 
Do we faithful vigils keep. 

" See yon spirit-mother hovers 

O'er her fondly cherished child : 
Weeps in smiles of tender sorrow, 

Drinks its breath with rapture wild. 



JOHN W. WEIDEMEYER. 427 

" Playing with her flowing tresses, 

Pillowed on her heaving breast, 
Comes the spirit-child, to linger, 

By its mother's lips caressed. 

" And the ghostly husband beckons 

To his mourning, faithful wife ; 
In your lunar dwelling bids her 

Join with him in spirit-life." 

Never can the tie be severed 

'Twixt the hearts that truly love ; 
And for every friend departed, 

One ye gain in heaven above. 



RELIANCE ON GOD. 

Not before published. 

1V/TY God, my Father, and my Friend ! 
"*" Let every heart rejoice 

That we are here to utter praise, 
With glad and tuneful voice. 

All silently " Hosannas " bend 

Toward thy spirit- throne, 
From depths where never prophet dwelt, 

Nor Scripture-text is known. 

Unbounded is thy wondrous love, 

That tends the raven's call ; 
Unfailing is thy watchful care, 

That marks the sparrow's fall. 

By thy command we live — to die j 

Thou lendest what we give ; 
And he that suffers oft is blest, 

And, dying, learns to live. 



428 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

SAMUEL LONGFELLOW. 
(18.19.) 

Rev. Samuel Longfellow, brother of the poet Henry W. Long- 
fellow, was born in Portland, Me., June 18, 1819. Having there pursued 
his preparatory studies, he entered Harvard College, and graduated in 
1839. For about three years he was subsequently employed as a private 
teacher. He afterward entered the Divinity School at Cambridge, and 
graduated from that institution in 1846, in the same class with O. B. 
Frothingham and Samuel Johnson. He was first settled over the Uni- 
tarian Church in Fall River, in 1848. His next pastorate was that of the 
Second Unitarian Church in Brooklyn, N. Y., his installation taking place 
June 13, 1853. He resigned this charge in the spring of i860 for the pur- 
pose of seeking rest and opportunity for study abroad. He has not since 
had the regular care of any parish, but has preached in different pulpits 
for a more or less limited time, as health arid circumstances have per- 
mitted ; and has also continued to engage in a variety of literary labor. 
While in Brooklyn, he was for two years a regular contributor to the 
"Christian Inquirer," now the "Liberal Christian." Some of his more 
important papers were given to the pages of " The Radical," published 
in Boston. Four of his sermons have appeared in pamphlet form. Mr. 
Longfellow has made several visits to Europe, and now resides at Cam- 
bridge. 

While his distinguished brother has written but few hymns adapted 
in form to general use in our churches, he himself has employed his rare 
gift of song in this particular service quite exclusively, so far as we may 
judge from the poetical productions which he has allowed to be printed. 
In this and in other ways he has done much to make richer and more 
attractive the musical and devotional element in our social or public 
worship. In 1846 he and Rev. Samuel Johnson published "A Book of 
Hymns," which passed through many editions, and which included a 
large number of new and beautiful songs of praise and trust that have 
since been admitted into other Collections. We have had frequent occa- 
sion to refer to this book in other parts of this volume. In 1859 he com- 
piled a book of "Hymns and Tunes," "primarily for use in Sunday 
Schools and the Home Circle," and also a small book of Vespers, both 
of which were specially prepared for his own society in Brooklyn. The 
Vesper Service, which he was the first to introduce in the Unitarian 
denomination, came in the course of years to be adopted, in a more or 
less extended or varied form, by many other churches. Still later, he 
was again associated with Mr. Johnson in compiling the "Hymns of the 
Spirit," to which also we have often previously referred, and which was 
first published in 1864. In this Collection many hymns appear in an- 



SAMUEL LONGFELLOW. 429 

altered form, and numerous other changes are made from the book which 
had been issued in 1846, witnessing to the growing theistic views and 
sympathies which both of these friends had come to entertain. Each 
of these eminent men now holds to a pure Theism, and has always 
declined to take any sectarian or denominational name. 

A few of Mr. Longfellow's hymns are in the earlier compilations 
which we have mentioned, the "Book of Hymns," the book of "Ves- 
pers," &c, but a larger number are to be found in the "Hymns of the 
Spirit." In this Collection there are, besides those which in their author- 
ized form we give below, others, that begin : " God of ages and of 
nations ; " " In the beginning was the Word ; " " O God, in whom w r e 
live and move;" "O God, thou Giver of all good ; " "O Thou whose 
liberal sun and rain ; " "Out of the dark the circling sphere," founded 
on a passage in one of Mr. Martineau's sermons ; " The loving Friend to 
all who bowed ; " "He who himself and God would know." All these 
hymns breathe a pure and reverent spirit, and are clothed with grace 
and loveliness. 



JOHN AND JESUS. 

A VOICE by Jordan's shore ! 

A summons stern and clear : — 
Reform ! be just ! and sin no more ! 
God's judgment draweth near ! 

A voice by Galilee, 

A holier voice I hear : — 
Love God ! thy neighbor love ! for see, 

God's mercy draweth near ! 

O voice of Duty ! still 

Speak forth ; I hear with awe : 
In thee I own the sovereign will, 

Obey the sovereign law. 

Thou higher voice of Love, 

Yet speak thy word in me ; 
Through duty, let me upward move 

To thy pure liberty ! 



430 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



A NEW COMMANDMENT 

T3ENEATH the shadow of the cross, 

As earthly hopes remove, 
His new commandment Jesus gives, 
His blessed word of love. 

O bond of union, strong and deep ! 

O bond of perfect peace ! 
Not even the lifted cross can harm, 

If we but hold to this. 

Then, Jesus, be thy spirit ours ! 

And swift our feet shall move 
To deeds of pure self-sacrifice, 

" And the sweet tasks of love." 



LIFE'S MISSION. 

r^O forth to life, O child of earth ! 

Still mindful of thy heavenly birth : 
Thou art not here for ease, or sin, 
But manhood's noble crown to win. 

Though passion's fires are in thy soul, 
Thy spirit can their flames control ; 
Though tempters strong beset thy way, 
Thy spirit is more strong than they. 

Go on from innocence of youth 
To manly pureness, manly truth ; 
God's angels still are near to save, 
And God himself doth help the brave. 

Then forth to life, O child of earth ! 
Be worthy of thy heavenly birth ! 
For noble service thou art here ; 
Thy brothers help, thy God revere ! 






SAMUEL LONGFELLOW. 43 1 



THEY LOOKED UNTO HIM, AND WERE 
LIGHTENED. 

" Knowing that all things are in God's hand, and that God's hand is in all things.' 1 

T LOOK to thee in every need, 

And never look in vain ; 
I feel thy strong and tender love, 

And all is well again ; 
The thought of thee is mightier far 
Than sin and pain and sorrow are. 

Discouraged in the work of life, 

Disheartened by its load, 
Shamed by its failures or its fears, 

I sink beside the road ; 
But let me only think of thee, 
And then new heart springs up in me. 

Thy calmness bends serene above, 

My restlessness to still ; 
Around me flows thy quickening life, 

To nerve my faltering will ; 
Thy presence fills my solitude, 
Thy providence turns all to good. 

Embosomed deep in thy dear love, 

Held in thy law, I stand ; 
Thy hand in all things I behold, 

And all things in thy hand ; 
Thou leadest me by unsought ways, 
And turn'st my mourning into praise. 

ORDINATION HYMN. 

Written for the ordination of Mr. Edward E. Hale, at Worcester, Mass. 

f~\ GOD, thy children, gathered here, 
^^^ Thy blessing now we wait ; 
Thy servant, girded for his work, 
Stands at the temple's gate. 



43 2 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

A holy purpose in his heart 
Has deepened calm and still ; 

Now from his childhood's Nazareth 
He comes, to do thy will. 

O Father ! keep his soul alive 

To every hope of good ; 
And may his life of love proclaim 

Man's truest brotherhood ! 

O Father ! keep his spirit quick 
To every form of wrong ; 

And in the ear of sin and self 
May his rebuke be strong ! 

O, give him, in thy holy work, 
Patience to wait thy time, 

And, toiling still with man, to breathe 
The soul's serener clime ! 

And grant him many hearts to lead 

Into thy perfect rest ; 
Bless thou him, Father, and his work, — 

Bless, and they shall be blest ! 

PRAYER FOR INSPIRATION. 

TTOLY SPIRIT, Truth divine ! 

Dawn upon this soul of mine ; 
Word of God, and Inward Light ! 
Wake my spirit, clear my sight. 

Holy Spirit, Love divine ! 
Glow within this heart of mine ; 
Kindle every high desire ; 
Perish self in thy pure fire ! 

Holy Spirit, Power divine ! 
Fill and nerve this will of mine ; 
By thee may I strongly live, 
Bravely bear, and nobly strive. 






SAMUEL LONGFELLOW. 433 

Holy Spirit, Right divine ! 
King within my conscience reign ; 
Be my Law, and I shall be 
Firmly bound, for ever free. 

Holy Spirit, Peace divine ! 
Still this restless heart of mine ; 
Speak to calm this tossing sea, 
Stayed in. thy tranquillity. 

Holy Spirit, Joy divine ! 
Gladden thou this heart of mine ; 
In the desert ways I sing, 
" Spring, O Well ! for ever spring ! " 



"FATHER, I HAVE SINNED. 

T OVE for all ! and can it be ? 

Can I hope it is for me ? 
I who strayed so long ago, — 
Strayed so far, and fell so low ? 

I, the disobedient child, 
Wayward, passionate, and wild ; 
I, who left my Father's home, 
In forbidden ways to roam ! 

I, who spurned his loving hold, 
I, who would not be controlled ; 
I, who would not hear his call, 
I, the wilful prodigal ! 

To my Father can I go ? 
At his feet myself I'll throw ; 
In his house there yet may be 
Place, a servant's place, for me. 

See, my Father waiting stands ! 
See, he reaches out his hands ! 
God is love ! I know, I see, 
There is love for me — even me ! 
28 



434 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



THE CHURCH UNIVERSAL. 

/^NE holy Church of God appears 
^^^ Through every age and race, 
XJnwasted by the lapse of years, 
Unchanged by changing place. 

From oldest time, on farthest shores, 

Beneath the pine or palm, 
One Unseen Presence she adores, 

With silence or with psalm. 

Her priests are all God's faithful sons, 
To serve the world raised up ; 

The pure in heart, her baptized ones ; 
Love, her communion-cup. 

The truth is her prophetic gift, 

The soul her sacred page ; 
And feet on mercy's errands swift 

Do make her pilgrimage. 

O Living Church ! thine errand speed ; 

Fulfil thy task sublime ; 
With bread of life earth's hunger feed ; 

Redeem the evil time. 



PEACE ON EARTH. 

T3EACE, peace on earth ! the heart of man for ever 

Through all these weary strifes foretells the day ; 
Blessed be God, the hope forsakes him never, 

That war shall end and swords be sheathed for aye. 

Peace, peace on earth ! for men shall love each other, 
Hosts shall go forth to bless and not destroy ; 

For man shall see in every man a brother, 
And peace on earth fulfil the angels' joy. 



SAMUEL LONGFELLOW. 435 



"BEHOLD, THE FIELDS ARE WHITE." 

f~\ STILL in accents sweet and strong 

Sounds forth the ancient word, — 
" More reapers for white harvest fields, 
More laborers for the Lord ! " 

We hear the call ; in dreams no more 

In selfish ease we lie, 
But, girded for our Father's work, 

Go forth beneath his sky. 

Where prophets' word, and martyrs' blood, 
And prayers of saints were sown, 

We, to their labors entering in, 

Would reap where they have strown. 

O Thou whose call our hearts has stirred ! 

To do thy will we come ; 
Thrust in our sickles at thy word, 

And bear our harvest home. 



HYMN OF WINTER. 

"T*IS winter now ; the fallen snow 

Has left the heavens all coldly clear ; 
Through leafless boughs the sharp winds blow, 
And all the earth lies dead and drear. 

And yet God's love is not withdrawn ; 

His life within the keen air breathes, 
His beauty paints the crimson dawn, 

And clothes the boughs with glittering wreaths. 

And though abroad the sharp winds blow, 
And skies are chill, and frosts are keen, 

Home closer draws her circle now, 
And warmer glows her light within. 



43^ SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

O God, who giv'st the winters cold, 
As well as sunbeams' joyous rays ! 

Us warmly in thy love enfold, 

And keep us through life's wintry days. 



The two following hymns, with two others, were written for the little 
book of Vespers which Mr. Longfellow prepared in 1859 : — 



VESPER HYMNS. 

IVTOW on land and sea descending, 

Brings the night its peace profound ; 
Let our vesper-hymn be blending 

With the holy calm around. 
Soon as dies the sunset glory, 

Stars of heaven shine out above, 
Telling still the ancient story, — 

Their Creator's changeless love. 

Now our wants and burdens leaving 

To His care, who cares for all, 
Cease we fearing, cease we grieving ; 

At his touch our burdens fall. 
As the darkness deepens o'er us, 

Lo ! eternal stars arise ; 
Hope and Faith and Love rise glorious, 

Shining in the spirit's skies. 



A GAIN, as evening's shadow falls, 

We gather in these hallowed walls ; 
And vesper-hymn and vesper-prayer 
Rise mingling on the holy air. 

May struggling hearts that seek release 
Here find the rest of God's own peace ; 
And, strengthened here by hymn and prayer, 
Lay down the burdens and the care. 



JAMES T. FIELDS. 437 

O God, our light ! to thee we bow ; 
Within all shadows standest thou : 
Give deeper calm than night can bring ; 
Give sweeter songs than lips can sing. 

Life's tumult we must meet again, — 
We cannot at the shrine remain ; 
But in the spirit's secret cell 
May hymn and prayer for ever dwell. 

»o^itx. 

JAMES T. FIELDS. 

(1820.) 

James Thomas Fields was born in Portsmouth, N.H., Dec. 31, 1820. 
He has long been a resident of Boston, and was for many years the 
partner of the well-known and eminent publishing firm of " Ticknor & 
Fields." He has well been called the "Poet's Publisher of America." 
Two of his own principal poems were given before the Mercantile 
Library Association of Boston, — one on "Commerce," when Edward 
Everett was the orator of the occasion, in 1838 ; and another, " The 
Post of Honor," in 1845, wnen Daniel Webster delivered the oration. 
In 1847 ne visited Europe, and after his return published a volume of 
his verses in 1849. A small edition of his briefer poems from this 
volume, with additional pieces, appeared from the press of Metcalf & 
Co., Cambridge, in 1854, for more private distribution. A similar 
volume embracing pieces from the editions already mentioned, and in- 
cluding some fresh offerings, was issued in 1858, under the title of " A 
Few Verses for a Few Friends." Many of his productions have from 
time to time been given to the magazines, and especially to the "Atlantic 
Monthly," of which he was editor from 1862 to 1870. During his con- 
nection with the house of Ticknor & Fields, one of his chief literary 
labors was the supervision of twenty-one volumes of De Quincey's 
writings, published by that firm. His long and intimate acquaintance 
with the leading English as well as American authors in our day is 
familiarly known to the public. Out of these personal relations and 
friendships he wrote for the "Atlantic" a series of charming papers, 
called " Our Whispering Gallery," which have since appeared in a hand- 
some volume, under the title of "Yesterdays with Authors." Of a 
kindred nature are some of the very interesting popular lectures with 
which he has delighted numerous audiences during the last few years. 

From the small edition of his poems, published by Metcalf & Co., we 
make a few selections specially adapted to the present volume, and char- 
acterized by all this author's purity of thought, refinement of sentiment, 
and delicacy of taste. 



438 SOJVGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



OUR FIRESIDE EVENING HYMN. 

T1TITHER, bright angels, wing your flight, 
And stay your gentle presence here ; 
Watch round, and shield us through the night, 
That every shade may disappear. 

How sweet when Nature claims repose, 
And darkness floats in silence nigh, 

To welcome in, at daylight's close, 

Those radiant troops that gem the sky ! 

To feel that unseen hands we clasp, 

While feet unheard are gathering round, 

To know that we in faith may grasp 
Celestial guards from heavenly ground ! 

O ever thus, with silent prayer 

For those we love, may night begin, — 

Reposing safe, released from care, 
Till morning leads the sunlight in. 



A POOR MAN'S EPITAPH. 

TTE was not what the world counts rich, 

Houses and lands had none in store ; 
But, blessed with strength for honest toil, 
He neither asked nor cared for more. 

His neighbors moved in higher ranks, 
And far above him all could shine ; 

He lived with Health, and brave Content, 
And water drank instead of wine. 

" Enough for me," he said, " if here 
My table's spread when hunger calls, 

To leave me something for a friend 
W 7 hose lot than mine still lower falls. 



JAMES T. FIELDS. 439 

" And if the rainy days should come, 

And I've no silver hoarded by, 
How can I want, if Him I trust 

Who feeds the ravens when they cry ? 

" Around my board a place I'll keep 

For pallid lips that pine in woe, 
And better gifts than I impart 

Shall unseen angel-hands bestow ! " 

See where he sleeps who served mankind, — 
Who wept and watched with weeping eyes ; 

Walk round his grave with reverent step, 
For there a more than hero lies. 



THE FLIGHT OF ANGELS. 

'"pWO pilgrims to the Holy Land 

Passed through our open door, — 
Two sinless angels, hand in hand, 
Have reached the promised shore. 

We saw them take their heavenward flight 
Through floods of drowning tears, 

And felt in woe's bewildering night 
The agony of years. 

But now we watch the golden path 

Their blessed feet have trod, 
And know that voice was not in wrath, 

Which called them both to God. 



THE DEAD. 

" Still the same, no charm forgot, — 
Nothing lost that Time had given." 

"p.ORGET not the Dead, who have loved, who have left us, 
Who bend o'er us now, from their bright homes above ; 
But believe — never doubt — that the God who bereft us 
Permits them to mingle with friends they still love. 



440 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Repeat their fond words, all their noble deeds cherish, 
Speak pleasantly of them who left us in tears ; — 

Other joys may be lost, but their names should not perish, 
While time bears our feet through the Valley of Years. 

Dear friends of our Youth ! can we cease to remember 
The last look of life, and the low-whispered prayer ? 

O cold be our hearts as the ice of December, 

When Love's tablets record no remembrances there. 

Then forget not the Dead, who are evermore nigh us, 
Still floating sometimes to our dream-haunted bed ! 

In the loneliest hour, in the crowd, they are by us ; 
Forget not the Dead ! O, forget not the Dead ! 

SUMMER-EVENING MELODY. 

r^ O forth ! the sky is blue above, 

And cool the green sod lies below ; 
It is the hour that claims for love 
The halcyon moments as they flow, 

The glow-worm lends her twinkling lamp, 
The cricket sings his soothing strain, 

And fainter sounds the weary tramp 
Of footsteps in the grassy lane. 

Go forth, ye pallid sons of care ! 

Too long your thoughts to earth are given ; 
To-night sweet music haunts the air, 

And fragrant odors breathe of heaven. 

TO THOMAS STARR KING. 

Addressed to Rev. Thomas Starr King, when he was first ordained as a minister. The 
preacher and the poet were schoolmates in earlier years. 

/^* O, with a manly heart, 

Where courage leads the brave 
High thoughts, not years, have stamped their part, 
Who shunned the coward's grave. 



JAMES T. FIELDS. 44 1 

Clear, to the eye of Youth, 

Their record stands enrolled, 
Who held aloft the flag of Truth, 

Nor slept beneath its fold. 

They heard the trumpets sound 

Where hosts to battle trod, 
And marched along that burning ground : 

Fear not ! they rest with God. 

Like them, advance in love, 

And upward bend thy sight ; 
Win Faith through Prayer ; He rules above 

Who still protects the right. 



DIRGE FOR A YOUNG GIRL. 

T JNDERNEATH the sod, low lying, 

Dark and drear, 
Sleepeth one who left, in dying, 

Sorrow here. 

Yes, they're ever bending o'er her, 

Eyes that weep ; 
Forms, that to the cold grave bore her, 

Vigils keep. 

When the summer moon is shining 

Soft and fair, 
Friends she loved in tears are twining 

Chaplets there. 

Rest in peace, thou gentle spirit, 

Throned above ! 
Souls like thine with God inherit 

Life and love. 



44 2 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



EVENTIDE IN THE COUNTRY. 

'T^HIS cottage-door, this gentle gale, 

Hay-scented, whispering round, 
Yon path-side rose, that down the vale 
Breathes incense from the ground, 

Methinks should from the dullest clod 
Invite a thankful heart to God. 

But, Lord, the violet bending low, 
Seems better moved to praise : 
From us what scanty blessings flow, 
How voiceless close our days ! 
Father, forgive us, and the flowers 
Shall lead in prayer the vesper-hours. 

A CHARACTER. 

f~\ HAPPIEST he, whose riper years retain 

' The hopes of youth, unsullied by a stain ! 
His eve of life in calm content shall glide, 
Like the still streamlet to the ocean-tide ; 
No gloomy cloud hangs o'er his tranquil day, 
No meteor lures him from his home astray : 
For him there glows with glittering beam on high 
Love's changeless star that leads him to the sky ; 
Still to the past he sometimes turns to trace 
The mild expression of a mother's face ; 
And dreams, perchance, as oft in earlier years, 
The low sweet music of her voice he hears. 



MOON-RISE AT SEA. 

A Child speaks. 

{"^OME up ! the moon is rising fast, 
The sea is calm, the deck is clear 
Come, mother, stay no longer here, - 
The moonlight will not always last. 






JAMES T. FIELDS. 443 

Do you remember once you talked 

With me of Christ upon the sea ? 

Now hearken, for this seems to me 
The shining path where Jesus walked ! 

And when the silvery brightness came 
Along the sparkling waves to-night, 
My heart leaped trembling at the sight, 

And then I spoke our Saviour's name. 

I should not fear his holy will, 

If now he stood on yon bright place, 
And I could see his blessed face, 

And hear his whisper, " Peace ! be still ! " 



HOME. 

HHHERE are, thank Heaven, beneath this fitful dome, 

Some leaflets floating near affection's home ; 
Some cloudless skies that smile on scenes below, 
Some changeless hues in life's wide-spanning bow. 

So let us live, that, if misfortune's blast 
Come like a whirlwind to our hearths at last, 
Sunbeams may break from one small spot of blue, 
To guide us safe life's dreary desert through. 



HYMN.* 

It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord. 

'T^HOU who hast called our being here, 

And given us souls to save, 
Who taught us more of love than fear, 
Of heaven than of the grave, — 

* From a Sunday-school hymn-book, entitled " Children's Praise." 



444 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

To thee in every mortal hour 

With confidence we turn, 
And, feeling thine abiding power, 

Our hearts with rapture burn. 

" Thy kingdom come, thy will be done,' : 
May all thy children say, 

And thank thee, Father, for thy Son, 
Who taught us how to pray. 



HYMN* 

For the Unitarian Festival, at Faneuil Hall, May 24, 1853. 

"VT'E sacred walls, — blest Freedom's shrine, 

Undying years of Fame are thine ! 
Let holy Truth and Justice claim 
The honors still that gild thy name. 

Ye silent spirits, waiting round 
To guard this consecrated ground, 
Inspire our breasts with hallowed zeal 
That patriots own, and Christians feel. 

How clear the voice of Duty calls 
Along these time-enchanted walls ! 
How gleams the charge in words of light, 
To plant, and watch and shield the Right ! 

Our fathers' God, our Guide, our Trust ! 
Bend low thine ear to lips of dust ; 
This be our prayer, — let Love increase, 
Till heaven's wide dome orbs endless peace. 

* From a printed Order of Service. 



SAMUEL JOHNSON. 445 

SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
(1822.) 

Rev. Samuel Johnson, son of Dr. Samuel and Anna D. Johnson, 
was born at Salem, Mass., Oct. 10, 1822 ; received his early education in 
private schools in that city, and graduated at Harvard College in 1842, 
and at the Cambridge Divinity School in 1846. He established, in 1853, 
at Lynn, Mass., an Independent Religious Society on a Free Church 
basis, and continued as its minister until 1870. He has since preached 
or lectured occasionally before congregations or audiences of radical 
views and sympathies, but has been mainly occupied in writing on relig- 
ious and literary topics. He now resides at Salem. 

He has published, from time to time, since 1847, sermons on various 
aspects of the great struggle for Emancipation, in the "Liberator," the 
"Anti-slavery Standard," the "Commonwealth," and other journals; 
pamphlet discourses on " The Rendition of Anthony Burns," 1854 ; " The 
Death of President Lincoln," 1865 ; " The Religion of a Free Church," 
1866; "A Ministry in Free Religion," 1870; "A Memorial of Charles 
Sumner," 1874; many contributions to "The Radical"- on religious, 
moral, political, and aesthetic subjects, especially six discourses on the 
Foundations of Religious Belief for the earliest numbers of that magazine, 
1865-1866; and essays on "Jefferson's Rip Van Winkle," August, 1869; 
on "Free Religion and the Free States," October, 1869 ; on the "Fore- 
closure of Spiritual Unity," January, 1869 ; and on " Labor Parties and 
Labor Reform," November, 187 1, afterward printed as a pamphlet ; also, 
essays, before meetings of the Free Religious Association, on the " Nat- 
ural Sympathy of Religions," and on " Freedom in Religion," printed in 
the Reports of 1870 and 1873; and a lecture on the "Interpretation of 
Nature," delivered at Horticultural Hall, Boston, published in the 
" Index," March 9, 1872. Mr. Johnson has also written a treatise on the 
" Worship of Jesus, in its Past and Present Aspects," 1868, and is now 
engaged in preparing an extended work on "Oriental Religions, and their 
Relation to Universal Religion," one volume of which, on India, has 
already appeared (J. R. Osgood & Co.), 1872. Mr. Johnson's attitude 
has been quite independent of all sectarian or denominational associa- 
tions. Among those who are commonly known as Theists, perhaps no 
preacher or author in America has displayed more intellectual power 
than he. 

As has been stated on a previous page, he assisted Rev. Samuel Long- 
fellow in compiling the " Book of Hymns," in 1846, and the " Hymns of 
the Spirit," in 1S64. In these Collections are some inspiring hymns of 
his own. " Father, in thy mysterious presence kneeling," has com- 
forted and strengthened many a sad and weary heart ; and " Life of 
ages, richly poured," quickens the blood as one reads it. These and 
others we take from the last-named Compilation. 



446 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



FOR DIVINE STRENGTH. 

"pATHER, in thy mysterious presence kneeling, 

Fain would our souls feel all thy kindling love ; 
For we are weak, and need some deep revealing 
Of trust, and strength, and calmness from above. 

Lord, we have wandered forth through doubt and sorrow, 
And thou ha'st made each step an onward one ; 

And we will ever trust each unknown morrow, — 
Thou wilt sustain us till its work is done. 

In the heart's depths a peace serene and holy 
Abides ; and when pain seems to have its will, 

Gr we despair, O, may that peace rise slowly, 
Stronger than agony, and we be still ! 

Now, Father, now, in thy dear presence kneeling, 
Our spirits yearn to feel thy kindling love ; 

Now make us strong, we need thy deep revealing 
Of trust, and strength, and calmness from above. 



THE REFORMER'S VOW. 

For the Graduating Exercises of the Class of 1846 in the Cambridge Divinity School. 

/^OD of the earnest heart, 

The trust assured and still, 
Thou who our strength for ever art, 
We come to do thy will ! 

Upon that painful road 

By saints serenely trod, 
Whereon their hallowing influence flowed, 

W 7 ould we go forth, O God ! 

'Gainst doubt and shame and fear 

In human hearts to strive, 
That all may learn to love and bear, 

To conquer self, and live; 



SAMUEL JOHNSON. 447 

To draw thy blessing down, 

And bring the wronged redress, 
And give this glorious world its crown, 

The spirit's Godlikeness. 

No dreams from toil to charm, 

No trembling on the tongue, — 
Lord, in thy rest may we be calm, 

Through thy completeness strong ! 

Thou nearest while we pray ; 

O, deep within us write, 
With kindling power, our God, to-day, 

Thy word : " On earth be light ! " 



IN TIME OF WAR. 

ORD, once our faith in man no fear could move ; 

Now save it from despair ! 
The trial comes ; strengthen the might of love : 
Father, thou hearest prayer ! 

Thou hearest ; and we hear, above this din, 

Thy blessed word sound clear : 
" I purge this land from slavery and sin ; 

The reign of heaven draws near." 

O, never falter, ye who strive to bring 

In men the heavenly birth ; 
For still the angel hosts unfaltering sing, 

" Peace to the weary earth ! " 

O, never falter ! peace must come by pain ; 

Heaven is not found, but won ; 
Hold the dark angel till he moulds again 

The peace he hath undone. 



448 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

We know not, Lord, what storms and trials strong 
Must work our world's new birth ; 

But we will toil, with this for working song, — 
" Peace to the weary earth ! " 

Peace to the weary, struggling, sin-sick earth ! 

Peace to the heart of man ! 
Storm shall bring calm ; that high reward is worth 

All we must bear, or can. 



THE CONFLICT OF LIFE. 

/^VNWARD, onward, though the region 
^^ Where thou art be drear and lone ; 
God hath set a guardian legion 
Very near thee, — press thou on ! 

Upward, upward ! Their hosanna 
Rolleth o'er thee, " God is Love ! " 

All around thy red-cross banner 
Streams the radiance from above. 

By the thorn-road, and none other, 

Is the mount of vision won ; 
Tread it without shrinking, brother ! 

Jesus trod it, — press thou on ! 

By thy trustful, calm endeavor, 
Guiding, cheering, like the sun, 

Earth-bound hearts thou shalt deliver ; 
O, for their sake, press thou on ! 

Be this world the wiser, stronger, 
For thy life of pain and peace ; 

While it needs thee, O no longer 
Pray thou for thy quick release ; 

Pray thou, undisheartened, rather, 

That thou be a faithful son ; 
By the prayer of Jesus, — " Father, 

Not my will, but thine, be done ! " 



SAMUEL JOHNSON. 449 



THE CHURCH'S WORK. 

HP HOLT, whose glad summer yields 

Fit increase of the spring, 
In faith we sow these living fields, 
Bless Thou the harvesting ! 

Thy Church must lead aright 

Life's work, left all undone, 
Till founded fast in love and light, 

Earth home to heaven be won. 

Grant, then, thy servants, Lord, 
Fresh strength from hour to hour ; 

Through speech and deed the living word 
Find utterance with power, 

To keep the child's faith bright, 
To strengthen manhood's truth, 

And set the age-dimmed eye alight 
With heaven's eternal youth ! 

That in the time's stern strife, 

With saints we speed reform, 
Unresting in the calm of life, 

Unshrinking in its storm. 



DEDICATION OF A CHAPEL. 

Written for the dedication of the New Chapel built for Rev. Samuel Longfellow's 
Society, in Brooklyn, N.Y., March, 1858. 

/ T^O light, that shines in stars and souls ; 

To law, that rounds the world with calm ; 

To love, whose equal triumph rolls 

Through martyr's prayer and angel's psalm, — 

We wed these walls with unseen bands, 

In holier shrines not built with hands. 
29 



450 SOJVGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

May purer sacrament be here 

Than ever dwelt in rite or creed ; 

Hallowed the hour with vow sincere 
To serve the time's all-pressing need, 

And rear, its heaving seas above, 

Strongholds of Freedom, folds of Love. 

Here be the wanderer homeward led ; 

Here living streams in fulness flow ; 
And every hungering soul be fed, 

That yearns the eternal will to know ; 
Here Conscience hurl her stern reply 
To Mammon's lust and Slavery's lie. 

Speak, Living God, thy full command, 

Through prayer of faith and word of power, 

That we with girded loins may stand 
To do thy work and wait thine hour ; 

And sow, 'mid patient toils and tears, 

For harvests in serener years. 



MADE PERFECT THROUGH SUFFERING. 

Written at the request of Dorothea L. Dix, for a Collection made by her for the us# of an 

Asylum. 

T BLESS thee, Lord, for sorrows sent 

To break my dream of human power ; 
For now my shallow cistern's spent, 
I find thy founts, and thirst no more. 

I take thy hand, and fears grow still ; 

Behold thy face, and doubts remove ; 
Who would not yield his wavering will 

To perfect Truth and boundless Love ? 

That love this restless soul doth teach 
The strength of thine eternal calm ; 

And tune its sad and broken speech 
To join, on earth, the angels' psalm. 



SAMUEL JOHNSON. 45 1 

O be it patient in thy hands, 

And drawn, through each mysterious hour, 
To service of thy pure commands, 

The narrow way to Love and Power ! 



INSPIRATION. 

T IFE of Ages, richly poured, 

Love, of God, unspent and free, 
Flowing in the prophet's word 
And the people's liberty ! 

Never was to chosen race 

That unstinted tide confined ; 

Thine is every time and place, 

Fountain sweet of heart and mind ! 

Secret of the morning stars, 

Motion of the oldest hours, 
Pledge through elemental wars 

Of the coming spirit's powers ! 

Rolling planet, flaming sun, 
Stand in nobler man complete ; 

Prescient laws thine errands run, 
Frame the shrine for Godhead meet 

Homeward led, the wondering eye 
Upward yearned in joy or awe, 

Found the love that waited nigh, 
Guidance of thy guardian law. 

In the touch of earth it thrilled ; 

Down from mystic skies it burned ; 
Right obeyed and passion stilled 

Its eternal gladness earned. 

Breathing in the thinker's creed, 
Pulsing in the hero's blood, 

Nerving simplest thought and deed, 
Freshening time with truth and good, 



452 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Consecrating art and song, 
Holy book and pilgrim track, 

Hurling floods of tyrant wrong 
From the sacred limits back, — 

Life of Ages, richly poured, 
Love of God, unspent and free. 

Flow still in the Prophet's word 
And the People's liberty ! 



THE CITY OF GOD. 

r^ITY of God, how broad and far 
Outspread thy walls sublime ! 
The true thy chartered freemen are, 
Of every age and clime. 

One holy Church, one army strong, 

One steadfast high intent, 
One working band, one harvest-song, 

One King Omnipotent ! 

How purely hath thy speech come down 

From man's primeval youth ! 
How grandly hath thine empire grown 

Of Freedom, Love, and Truth ! 

How gleam thy watch-fires through the night, 

With never-fainting ray ! 
How rise thy towers, serene and bright, 

To meet the dawning day ! 

In vain the surge's angry shock, 

In vain the drifting sands ; 
Unharmed upon the Eternal Rock, 

The Eternal City stands. 



SAMUEL JOHNSON. 453 



THE POWER OF JESUS. 

CTRONG-SOULED Reformer, whose far-seeing faith, 

Of lifted cry and tumult had no need, — 
Who stay'dst the lightnings of thy holy wrath 

With pitying love, to spare the bruised reed, — 
Thy will to save, thy strength to conquer, flowed 
From seas of tenderness and might in God. 

Thy living word sprang from the heart of man, 

Eternal word of love and liberty : 
Fearless thou gav'st it to the winds again ; 

. 'Twas manhood's native tongue and could not die. 
To thy dear brotherhood life's pulses leap ; 
And wakening ages answer, deep to deep. 



PAUL. 

HPHE Will Divine that woke a waiting time, 

With desert cry and Calvary's cross sublime, 
Had equal need on thee its power to prove, 
Thou soul of passionate zeal and tenderest love ! 

O slave devout of burdening Hebrew School, 
Proud to fulfil each time-exalted rule, 
How broke the illusion of thy swelling wrath 
On that meek front of calm, enduring faith ! 

Then flashed it on thy spirit mightily 
That thou had'st spurned a love that died for thee ! 
And all the pride went down in whelming flood 
Of boundless shame and boundless gratitude. 

What large atonement that great conscience pays ! 
For every wounding slight, a psalm of praise ; 
Unending worship shall the debt consume ; 
For hours of rage, a life of martyrdom. 



454 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Yet in such morning glow, such vital day, 
What chilling sense of claim or debt can stay ? 
O wondrous power of noble love, to free 
From binding Law to glorious Liberty! 

Dream not that one hath drained the exhaustless sea ; 
Full pours the tide in widening stream for thee ; 
Lift for new liberties that conquering sign ; 
Shatter the severing walls with touch divine ! 



OCTAVIUS BROOKS FROTHINGHAML 

(1822.) 

Rev. Octavius B. Frothingham, son of Rev. Nathaniel L. Froth- 
ingham, D.D., a sketch of whom and some of whose hymns have been 
given in another part of this volume, was born in Boston, Nov. 26, 1822. 
He pursued his earlier classical studies in the Latin School in that city ; 
graduated at Harvard College in 1843, and at the Cambridge Divinity 
School in 1846 ; was ordained as pastor of the North Church, Salem, 
March 10, 1847 ; was installed minister of the First Unitarian Church in 
Jersey City, Sept. 11, 1855, and of the Third Unitarian Church in New 
York City in i860, where he still continues his labors. He married, 
March 23, 1847, Caroline E. Curtis, daughter of Caleb Curtis, Esq., of 
Boston. 

Mr. Frothingham's position is quite independent of the Unitarian 
body, to which he once belonged. He has been the president of the 
Free Religious Association since its formation. He has been deeply 
interested in most of the humane or philanthropic movements of his day, 
and has been a busy and prolific writer and author, having published as 
many as twenty-seven magazine articles for the " Christian Examiner," 
about one hundred and thirty tracts and pamphlets, setting forth in ser- 
mon or essay his views and sentiments on a great variety of subjects, 
social, political, theological, &c, together with not a few volumes of 
unusual interest and importance. The latter are as follows : Two Books 
for Children, — "Parables," 1863, and "Patriarchs," 1864; a Translation 
of Renan's Critical Essays, under the title of " Studies of Religious 
History and Criticism," 1864 ; " A Child's Book of Religion," 1866 and 
1870; "The Religion of Humanity," 1872; and the "Life of Theodore 
Parker," 1874. Mr. Frothingham is greatly distinguished as a man of 
thought and erudition, and his style is at once graceful and brilliant. 



OCTAVIUS BROOKS FR0TH1NGHAM. 455 

Of the various hymns which he has written, we are not aware that 
more than one has ever been published. This was written for the grad- 
uating exercises of his class in the Divinity School in 1846, and has 
found a place in at least several of the Collections, at home and abroad. 
Enough of the quality of his father's sacred poetry is found in this to 
lead us to regret that he has not given us others of like merit. 



THE SOLDIERS OF -THE CROSS. 

THOU Lord of hosts, whose guiding hand 
Hath brought us here, before thy face, ■ 
Our spirits wait for thy command, 
Our silent hearts implore thy peace. 

Those spirits lay their noblest powers, 
As offerings, on thy holy shrine ; 

Thine was the strength that nourished ours ; 
The soldiers of the Cross are thine. 

While watching on our arms, at night, 
We saw thine angels round us move ; 

We heard thy call, we felt thy light, 
And followed, trusting to thy love. 

And now with hymn and prayer we stand, 
To give our strength to thee, Great God ! 

We would redeem thy holy land, 

That land which sin so long has trod. 

Send us where'er thou wilt/O Lord ! 

Through rugged toil and wearying fight ; 
Thy conquering love shall be our sword, 

And faith in thee our truest might. 

Send down thy constant aid, we pray ; 

Be thy pure angels with us still ; 
Thy truth, — be that our firmest stay ; 

Our only rest, to do thy will. 



456 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

CAROLINE ATHERTON MASON. 
(1823.) 

Mrs. Caroline A. Mason was born at Marblehead, Mass., in 1823. 
Her father was Dr. Calvin Briggs, of that town. She married Charles 
Mason, Esq., a lawyer of Fitchburg, Mass., where she now lives. Her 
earlier poems were published in the " Salem Register," under the signa- 
ture of "Caro." She afterwards contributed to the "National Era" 
and "Anti-Slavery Standard." She has also written for the "Congre- 
gationalist," the " Liberal Christian," the "Monthly Religious Magazine," 
the "Independent," the "Christian Union," and occasionally for other 
papers and periodicals. In 1852 she published a volume of her verses, 
entitled " Utterance : A Collection of Home-Poems." These were the 
productions of her earlier days. They gave good promise, however, of 
the still better offerings of her maturer years. The few of the latter 
which we present here were published in various journals and magazines, 
which have gladly welcomed them to their columns ; and they are of such 
a character as to justify us in expressing the hope that a new and full 
edition of her poems may ere long appear from the press. 

WAKING. 

T HAVE done at length with dreaming : 

Henceforth, O thou soul of mine ! 
Thou must take up sword and buckler, 
Waging warfare most divine. 

Life is struggle, combat, victory ! 

Wherefore have I slumbered on 
With my forces all unmarshalled, 

With my weapons all undrawn ? 

Oh, how many a glorious record 

Had the angels of me kept, 
Had I done instead of doubted, 

Had I warred instead of wept ! 

But begone, regret, bewailing ! 

Ye had weakened at the best : 
I have tried the trusty weapons 

Resting erst within my breast. 



CAROLINE ATHERTON MASON. 457 

I have wakened to my duty, 

To a knowledge strong and deep, 
That I recked not of aforetime, 

In my long, inglorious sleep. 

For the end of life is service, 

And I felt it not before, 
And I dreamed not how stupendous 

Was the meaning that it bore. 

In this subtle sense of being 

Newly stirred in every vein, 
I can feel a throb electric, — 

Pleasure half allied to pain. 

'Tis so sweet and yet so awful, 

So bewildering, yet brave, 
To be king in every conflict, 

Where before I crouched a slave ! 

'Tis so glorious to be conscious 

Of a growing power within, 
Stronger than the rallying forces 

Of a charged and marshalled sin ! 

Never in those old romances 

Felt I half the thrill of life 
That I feel within me stirring, 

Standing in this place of strife. 

Oh, those olden days of dalliance, 

When I wantoned with my fate ! 
When I trifled with a knowledge 

That had well nigh come too late ! 

Yet, my soul, look not behind thee ; 

Thou hast work to do at last : 
Let the brave toils of the Present 

Over-arch the crumbled Past. 



45 8 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Build thy great acts high and higher ; 

Build them on the conquered sod 
Where thy weakness first fell bleeding 

And thy first prayer rose to God ! 



NOT YET. 

"M^OT yet : — along the purpling sky 

We see the dawning ray, 
But leagues of cloudy distance lie 
Between us and the day. 

Not yet : — the aloe waits serene 
Its promised advent hour, — 

A patient century of green 
To one full perfect flower. 

Not yet : — no harvest song is sung 

In the sweet ear of spring, 
Nor hear we, while the blade is young, 

The reaper's sickle swing. 

Not yet : — before the crown, the cross ; 

The struggle ere the prize ; 
Before the gain the fearful loss, 

And death ere Paradise. 



IN SICKNESS. 

/ T^HE Sabbath-bells ring out upon the air, 

Calling God's children to his house of prayer ; 
Could I but rise and go, and meet him there ! 

I hear the people pass along the street : 

Their rustling garments and their churchward feet 

Make happy music-murmurs, low and sweet. 



CAROLINE ATHERTON MASON. 459 

The breath of summer-flowers is in my room, — 
The scent of lilies and the faint perfume 
Of crimson pinks and roses all abloom. 

And through my open window comes a rush 
Of sudden music, — some melodious thrush 
Pouring his heart out in one happy gush ! 

But lovelier far than any bird of spring, 
Sweeter than summer's sweetest blossoming, 
Thy sacred altars, O my God and King ! 

Better one day thy holy courts within 
Than are a thousand spent in mirthful sin : 
Open his gates, that I may enter in ! 

Nay : these preventing bonds ; this lifted rod ; 
These long, long hours of anguish, leaden-shod : — 
Let me be still, and know that thou art God. 

Oh, teach me — what so slow I am to learn — 
That where true spirits for thy presence yearn, 
There is thy temple, there thine altars burn. 

Believing this, these narrow walls expand 

Into cathedral glory, vast and grand, 

With fretted dome and arches over-spanned. 

Yet need I even these fancied signs of thee ? 
Dear Lord, but enter in, and dwell with me ! 
Then shall my heart both shrine and temple be. 



DARK HOURS. 

/^\H, my tried soul, be patient ! Roughest rinds 
Fold over sweetest fruitage \ heaviest clouds 
Rain the most ample harvests on the fields ; 
The grass grows greenest where the wintry snows 
Have fallen deepest ; and the fairest flowers 



460 SOA r GS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Spring from old dead decay. The darkest mine 
Yields the most flashing jewels from its cell ; 
And stars are born of darkness, day of night. 
Oh, my tired soul, be patient ! Yet for thee 
Goes on the secret alchemy of life. 
God, the one-Giver, grants no boon of earth 
That he withholds from thee ; and from the dark 
Of thy deep sorrow shall evolve new light, 
New strength to do and suffer, new resolves, 
Perchance new gladnesses and freshest hopes ! 
Oh ! there are times when I can no more weep 
That I have suffered ; for I know great strength 
Is born of suffering ; and I trust that still, 
Wrapped in the dry husk of my outer life, 
Lie warmer seeds than ever yet have burst 
From its dull covering ! Stronger purposes 
Stir consciously within, and make me great 
With a new life, — a life akin to God's, 
Which I must nurture for the holy skies. 
Help me, thou great All-Patient ! for the flesh 
Will sometimes falter, and the spirit fall. 
Add to my human thy divinest strength, 
When next I waver • rouse my faith as now, 
That out of darkness I may see great light, 
And follow where it ever leads, — to Thee ! 

DAILY BREAD. 

I" PRAY, with meek hands on my breast, 
"Thy will be done, thy kingdom come." 
But shouldst thou call my dear ones home, 
Should I still say, " 'Tis best : 
Thy will be done " ? 

I cannot tell. I probe my heart 
With sharpest instruments of pain, 
And listen if the sweet refrain 

Still wells up through the smart, — 
" Thy will be done." 



CAROLINE ATHERTON MASON. 46 1 

I cannot tell. I yield the quest, 
Content if only, day by day, 
My God shall give me grace to say, 

" Father, thou knowest best : 
Thy will be done." 

He gives no strength for coming ill 

Until its advent. Then he rolls 

His love in on his waiting souls, 
Sure of their sweet " Thy will, 
Thy will be done." 

" Give us this day our daily bread," — 
So prayed the Christ, and so will I : 
Father, my daily need supply, 

Or, if I go unfed, 

"Thy will be done." 

And should those fiery trials come 
I've wot of, thy dear word I'll trust 
To help me bear whate'er I must, 

And say, — all murmurs dumb, — 
" Thy will be done." 

And when with solemn care, some day, 
Sweet friends my dying eyes shall close, 
Hear my last prayer, and give to those 

I love best strength to say, 
"Thy will be done." 



A SONG IN THE NIGHT. 

" There shall be no night there." — Rev. xxi. 25. 

"VTO night, no night ! O blessed dawn, 
When this frail body shall put on 
Immortal robes and bright renown, 
And with God's ransomed ones sit down. 



462 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

No night of sorrow ! I shall be 
From every grief for ever free ; 
For God's own hand, with gentle sway, 
Shall wipe my latest tear away. 

No night of trial ! Here below 
What thorns amid my roses grow ! 
But there the flowers of my delight 
Shall know no thorn, shall fear no blight. 

No night of sin ! Thrice blessed day ! 
How often here I go astray ! 
But when I reach that heavenly shore, 
I shall be safe, and sin no more. 

No night of sickness ! Here in pain 
How oft I sink, then rise again ! 
But there the tree of healing grows, — 
An antidote for all my woes. 

No night of death ! O cherished few 
Whose hearts on earth to mine are true ! 
There we shall meet, and, meeting, be 
From change and death for ever free ! 

No night of tempest ! Storms arise, 
And overcast these earthly skies : 
There all shall be serenely bright, 
Nor tempests blow, nor storms affright. 

No night of trouble, want, or care ! 
No night of sadness or despair ! 
No night, no night, but there alway 
Calm, bright, serene, celestial day ! 

No night, no night ! O blessed clime ! 
Fain would I leap this shoal of time, 
And rest with all the ransomed band, 
Within that bright, that happy land ! 



CAROLINE ATHERTON MASON. 463 



BEAUTY FOR ASHES. 

T DARE not echo those who say- 
That life is but a troubled way, 
A barren waste devoid of charms, 
And rife with dangers and alarms ; 

A cross, to take up and to bear ; 
A vapor, chilly with despair ; 
A desert, where no roses blow, 
Nor any healing waters flow. 

Is life a cross ? O burden blest 

To those of God's dear love possessed ! 

Let me on him but lay it down, 

And, lo ! my cross becomes my crown ! 

Is it a desert vast and dim ? 
On every side beholding him, 
The barren wilderness doth bloom 
And sweeten with a sweet perfume. 

Is it a vapor chill with death ? 
I'll breathe it with a trusting breath : 
'Tis health to me ! 'Tis sweet and rare 
As Araby's best spices are ! 

Oh, only he who lets his smart 
Grow cankered in a thankless heart, 
Dares scout with carping discontent 
His thousand blessings daily sent. 

And he who has and would increase 
Within his soul God's perfect peace, 
Because the Lord is made his song, 
May well go singing all day long ! 



464 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



MATIN HYMN. 

" My voice shah thou hear in the morning, O Lord : in the morning will 1 direct my 
prayer unto thee, and will look up." — Psalms. 

" HPHE morning breaks upon my eyes, 

Like glimpses of a purer world, — 
As if the wings of Paradise 

O'er earth were suddenly unfurled. 

I lift the sash and gaze abroad 
On the sweet earth so fair, so bright : 

I raise my heart to thee, O God, 

And cry, " I thank thee for the light." 

Beyond the summer hills lie green, 

Fringed with their wealth of waving trees, 

That sparkle in the sunny sheen 

And tremble in the trembling breeze. 

O God ! I thank thee for each sight 
Of beauty that thy hand doth give, — 

For sunny skies and air and light ; 
O God, I thank thee that I live ! 

That life I consecrate to thee, 

And ever, as the day is born, 
On wings of joy my soul would flee, 

And thank thee for another morn ; — 

Another day in which to cast 

Some silent deed of love abroad, 
That, greatening as it journeys past, 

May do some earnest work for God ; — 

Another day to do, to dare ; 

To tax anew my growing strength ; 
To arm my soul with faith and prayer ; 

And so reach heaven and thee at length. 



CAROLINE A THE R TON MASON. 465 



EVENTIDE. 

From the " Salem Register." 

A T cool of day, with God I walk 
My garden's grateful shade : 
I hear his voice among the trees, 
And I am not afraid. 

I see his presence in the night, — 
And, though my heart is awed, 

I do not quail beneath the sight 
Or nearness of my God. 

He speaks to me in every wind, 

He smiles from every star ; 
He is not deaf to me, nor blind, 

Nor absent ; nor afar. 

His hand, that shuts the flowers to sleep, 

Each in its dewy fold, 
Is strong my feeble life to keep, 

And competent to hold. 

I cannot walk in darkness long, — 

My light is by my side ; 
I cannot stumble or go wrong 

While following such a guide. 

He is my stay and my defence ; — 

How shall I fail or fall ? 
My helper is Omnipotence ! 

My ruler ruleth all ! 

The powers below and powers above 

Are subject to his care : — 
I cannot wander from his love 

Who loves me everywhere. 

Thus dowered, and guarded thus, with him 

I walk this peaceful shade ; 
I hear his voice among the trees, 

And I am not afraid ! 
30 



466 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

LYDIA L. A. VERY. 
(1823.) 

Lydia Louisa Ann Very, sister of Jones and Washington Very, both 
of whom have a place in the roll of our singers, was born in Salem, Nov. 
2, 1823. For about thirty years she has been, with her sister, Frances 
Eliza, a teacher in the schools of her native city. She shares largely the 
fine poetic gift which distinguishes the family, and in 1856 published a 
volume of her verses, which was printed by W. F. Draper, Andover, 
Mass. Since then, she has from time to time contributed other offer- 
ings to various Boston and Salem papers, while yet engaged in her voca- 
tion as a teacher. As an artist, she has produced pictorial illustrations 
of "Little Red Riding Hood," and other children's stories, accompanied 
by exquisite designs and pretty juvenile verses. These have proved to 
be very popular, and have been republished in Germany. 

Of the four poems which are here given, the first two are taken from 
the volume of 1856, and the last two are selected from the fugitive pieces 
which she has since contributed to the papers. 

TO THE VIRGIN. 

(~\ HOLY Mother ! had no angel's voice 

Proclaimed the Christ should nestle in thine arms, 
Had no glad tidings bid thine heart rejoice, 

Would'st thou have seen aught but an infant's charms ? 

Would the small dimpled hand have told to thee 
That it possessed for men a healing power ? 

That it should make the blind new beauty see, 

From the blue heavens to the small blushing flower? 

In the low childish voice, would'st thou have heard 
Token of Him who should command the sea; 

Who should recall the spirit by a word, 

In the same earthly home once more to be ? 

Or, would the Saviour have been held by thee 
As now full many a babe unconscious lies, 

Plaything for wealth, burden for poverty, 
An unknown angel in an earthly guise ! 



LYDIA L. A. VERY. dfi7 

Methinks the Saviour was to thee revealed 
That thou should'st grieve him not in infancy, 

Proud that thine arms the Holy Child might shield, 
The opening promise of earth's brighter day ! 



TO THE UNKNOWN CHRIST. 

'T^HOU wert beside us on our daily way, 

And we perceived not thy benignant eyes ; 
Nor marked thee stop, earth's sorrows to allay, 
Reaching the wretchedness that lowest lies. 

Careless we walked, nor saw the blind receive 
The sight of things their inward eyes knew not ; 

The famished multitudes by thee were fed, 
And we of living bread no morsel sought. 

We gazed upon the dead, and saw the tomb 
Seal up its treasure from our weeping eyes ; 

Nor felt thy glory shine amid the gloom, 

Nor heard thy voice say to the soul, " Arise ! " 

Women we saw, bowed down for eighteen years, 
Who 'neath their cross a patient spirit wore ; 

Nor knew thine eye had rested there with ours, 
And thy compassion half their burden bore. 

Or when the Sea of Life in storms rose high, 
While heavy surges swept us at their will, 

And calm arose, — we knew not thou wert nigh, 
Walking the waves and saying, " Peace, be still S 

And when the sick and weary round thee came 
To hear thy tenderness and love revealed, 

We pressed not through the crowd to touch thy robe, 
And of our long-borne anguish to be healed. 

For thou, unknown, the earth hast wandered o'er, 
The gorgeous fanes we reared for thee passed by ; 

We sought thee not in earth's low places, where 
Thy ministry now, as of old, doth lie. 



468 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



THE PROMISES. 

"LTUNGER no more, O starving ones of earth ! 

Who know not where to find your daily bread, 
Whose life-long struggle is a strife to live, — 

Know by his hand all hungry ones are fed ! 
He will not thrust you empty from His door ; 
Receive the Bread of Life, nor hunger more ! 

Thirst never more, O sinful ones of earth, 
Who by forbidden waters learned to stray, 

Who from the innocence that guards each birth 
Wander through guilty pleasures far away ! 

Redeemed, forgiven, come walk by cooling streams, 

In living waters lose your feverish dreams ! 

Faint never more, O weary ones of earth, 
With heavy crosses painful to be borne ! 

There's one whose eye perceives each spirit's worth, 
Pities each soul by daily trials worn, — 

His hand shall loose at last the weary load, 

And lead each pilgrim to his blest abode. 



THE FIRST CABLE. 

*T*HERE is a cable stretched from earth to heaven ; 

The waves of thought it deeply underlies, 
Where all is calm and still as summer's even, 
Where deep to deep with solemn voice replies. 

Far, far beneath the surf of passion's foam, 
Or where light bubbles dally with the wind, 

Where life's bright sands have found a quiet home, 
And bury treasures that no eye can find. 

Cable of Prayer ! where messages do pass 
More subtle than the electric fluid sends, 

Where words gush forth unmeasured and unbought, 
And through the unknown realm we reach our friends ! 



WILLIAM ROUNSEVILLE ALGER. 469 

Cable of Prayer ! stretched ages long ago 

Beneath the tide of pagan mystery, 
Beneath the waves of human guilt and woe, 

Stretching beyond the Future's boundless sea. 

Cable of Prayer ! whose rivets never break, 

Fastened secure to hearts in earth and heaven ! 

The solid earth with mighty shocks may quake 
Ere from the Rock of Ages thou art riven ! 

Cable of Prayer ! while mortal life shall last, 
Or human weakness need an heavenly friend, 

Still shall the heart, 'mid sins and sorrows cast, 
Comfort receive and supplications send. 



WILLIAM ROUNSEVILLE ALGER. 
(1823.) 

Rev. William Rounseville Alger was born in Freetown, Mass., 
in 1823. Having pursued his earlier studies at Pembroke, N.H., and else- 
where, he entered the Divinity School at Cambridge, where he graduated 
in 1847. In the same year he was settled over the Mount Pleasant 
Society at Roxbury, Mass. He became the minister of the Bulfinch 
Street Church, in Boston, in 1855, and was afterward preacher at Music 
Hall, where Theodore Parker had stood from Sunday to Sunday during 
the last years of his memorable public ministrations. Mr. Alger received 
the honorary degree of Master of Arts from Harvard College, in 1852. 

Beside contributing numerous theological and literary articles to the 
"Christian Examiner," the "Galaxy," and other periodicals, he has pub- 
lished a variety of volumes of an important and interesting character, 
which have gained him no little celebrity as an author : a small volume 
giving a Symbolic History of the Cross of Christ, 1851 ; "The Poetry of 
the East," containing, with an Introduction, more than four hundred 
of his metrical versions from Oriental literature, 1856 ; several other 
enlarged and greatly enriched editions of the same ; "A Critical History 
of the Doctrine of the Future Life," a royal octavo volume of nine hun- 
dred and fourteen pages, with a complete Bibliography of the subject, 
1864; various later editions of the same, revised and improved; "The 



470 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Genius of Solitude," in four parts, — the Solitudes of Nature, the Soli- 
tudes of Man, the Morals of Solitude, and Sketches of Lonely Charac- 
ters, 1867 j "The Friendships of Women," 1868. Mr. Alger also edited, 
in 1858, "Studies of Christianity," a volume containing a series of theo- 
logical or religious papers by the Rev. James Martineau. To his labors 
as a preacher and author he has added those of a lecturer, having 
frequently appeared before lyceums and popular audiences, to which 
he has spoken in his own instructive and brilliant style upon a large 
variety of topics. 

His fame will perhaps rest principally upon his "History of the Doc- 
trine of the Future Life," unquestionably the most learned and elabo- 
rate theological work ever produced in this country. Having devoted 
long years of arduous study and consulted not less than six thousand 
different authorities or books in its preparation, he presents us in his 
solid volume the opinions of men of all races and in every age and clime 
concerning the fate of the soul, and clothes all the endless details of 
fact and well-marshalled array of discussions with which he crowds his 
pages with a beautiful drapery that lends to his scholastic lore the 
fascination of romance. The Bibliographical Appendix, by Ezra Ab- 
bot, LL.D., embraces a description of more than, five thousand dis- 
tinct works, carefully arranged in chronological order and furnished with 
an Alphabetical Index, and is a vast repertory of the literature of the 
great theme which Mr. Alger treats. 

In the latter part of-the fourth and last edition of the " Poetry of the 
Orient," issued by his publishers, Roberts Brothers, in 1874, we find 
various hymns and poems which are entirely Mr. Alger's own produc- 
tions. From these we make the following selections, except that the 
lines, "The Bitter Cup Sweet," are from the first part of the volume. 
Those who are familiar with our author's works and know how fond he 
is of the best poetry of different countries, and how rare a vein of poetry 
enriches all his own productions in prose, will not be surprised that his 
pen has thus finely run also to verse. 



THE BITTER CUP SWEET. 

A/TY God once mixed a harsh cup, for me to drink from it, 

L And it was full of acrid bitterness intensest ; 

The black and nauseating draught did make me shrink from it, 

And cry, " O Thou who every draught alike dispensest, 

This cup of anguish sore, bid me not to quaff of it, 

Or pour away the dregs and the deadliest half of it ! " 

But still the cup he held ; and seeing he ordained it, 

One glance at him, — it turned to sweetness as I drained it. 



WILLIAM ROUNSEVILLE ALGER. 47 1 



FUNERAL HYMN. 

'T^HE worlds that shine above us nightly, 

Then hide beyond our clew, 
Do surely shine all day as brightly 
Behind their veil of blue. 

When friends, with natural misgiving, 

We lay in earth's cold bed, 
We know that thus they still are living 

Where comes no sigh nor dread. 

O, while our saddest tears are stealing, 
When fate's worst dart has sped, 

'Tis light, not darkness, is concealing 
Our well-beloved dead. 

Whene'er a funeral bell is tolling, 

Some weary one doth rest ; 
And loudly through the skies are rolling 

The anthems of the blest. 

Then wherefore should we sink in sorrow, 

To part from those we love ? 
Since God will join us all to-morrow, 

In the endless home above. 



MY HEART. 

A SLEEPLESS night ; the rain pours fast ; 
My wakeful heart, between the flurries, 
Now harks where silent goes the past, 
Now where the threatening future hurries. 

O heart, thy listening must be bad ; 

Seek what enduring will resembles ; 
Behind are heard complainings sad, 

And forward many a question trembles. 

Whate'er the danger, never shrink : 
The storm itself thy trust discloses ; 

The boat with Christ no storm could sink ; 
Lo, in thy bosom God reposes. 



472 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



THE BETTER PART. 

r\ FATHER, kindly deign to hear 
^^^ The thanks thy children bring ; 
Help us with love and reverent fear 
Thy lofty praise to sing. 

And while before thy throne we bow, 
Come thou to every heart : 

From sin O purify us now ; 
Give us that better part. 

Remove to-day the world's wild din ; 

Our souls from evil save ; 
Help us life's noblest crown to win ; 

Guide us beyond the grave. 



CHRISTMAS HYMN. 

(1845.) 

TESUS has lived ! and we would bring 

The world's glad thanks to-day, 
And at his feet, while anthems ring, 
The grateful offering lay. 

Jesus has lived ! and his pure life, 

So perfect and sublime, 
Shall conquer man's dark sin and strife 

Through every rank and clime. 

Jesus has died ! and o'er the stars 
Gone home to God on high ; 

He burst the grave's cold prison-bars, 
And said, Man cannot die. 



WILLIAM ROUNSEVILLE ALGER. 473 

Jesus yet lives ! and from the sky, 

Where victory he wrote, 
Before the good man's closing eye 

Visions of glory float. 

Jesus yet lives ! and oh, may we, 

While in this valley dim, 
So feel our immortality 

That we may be like him ! 



HYMN AT DIVINITY SCHOOL. 

(1847.) 

T17ITHIN the shadow of his cross we stand, 

Whose words are wisdom to our Youth, 
And pray that he will bless our humble band, 
And consecrate us to the truth. 

Oh, be his deathless love of God and man, 

And faith in truth, the living power 
Whose fruit shall crown our Christian toils, and span 

With heavenly hopes the dying hour. 

Come down, his holy Spirit from above, 
Direct each mind, and warm each heart ; 

And ere we go, to speak the truth in love, 
Each one anoint and set apart. 

We are but twelve, and all the fields are white 

With harvests wide of worth untold ! 
Lord, give us tongues of fire and souls of might, 

And make us like thy Twelve of old. 



474 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



INSTALLATION OF THOMAS STARR KING. 

"OEFORE thee, Lord, a servant bows, 

To set himself apart in youth, 
And breathe his consecrating vows 
To preach salvation through the truth. 

He does not trust in human lore, 
Or pride, for strength to walk aright, 

But in thy Word, which from of yore 
Has guided men through faith to sight. 

With holy love his heart inspire, 
His mind with heavenly wisdom fill, 

And touch his faltering lips with fire 
To teach the lessons of thy will. 

Within these courts prolong his years 

Of labor for a faithful flock ! 
And, if assailed by foes and fears, 

Be thou his friend and wall of rock. 



FOURTH OF JULY. 
Boston, 1857. 

"IVTOW bend we low, and ask our fathers' God 

To smile on all o'er which our banner waves, 
The busy mart, the deck, the prairie sod, 

Old Plymouth roofs, new San Francisco graves. 

Commending unto Him, the only Good, 

This country as one undivided fold, 
Our patriot hearts o'er all its borders brood, 

From Eastern pines to Western strand of gold. 



WILLIAM ROUNSEVILLE ALGER. 47$ 

And thus to Heaven our pleading accents call : 
May wrong and strife among us disappear ; 

And soon their sacred rights be given to all, 
While truth and love lead in a Golden Year ! 



A HIGHER DEVOTION. 

A WAY, O Fame ! Thy star has set, 
To charm me never more : 
Thine airy visions I'll forget ; 
Thy luring dreams are o'er. 

God's love, a flaming sun, appears 

To fix my wandering eyes ; 
It hides each feebler orb that steers 

Along the lighted skies. 

Rule now, O Lord, in this poor heart 

That driveth Fame away : 
That thy true reign may not depart, 

My God, I deeply pray. 



THE RESULT. 

I" HOLD the laws of truth, so far as understood, 

To be the will of God, and perfect in their good ; 
And all the awful mysteries of things unknown, 
I also hold decreed from his unbounded throne. 
Since known and unknown rest alike on him alone, 
No room is left for me to question or rebel 
While ranging through the blended spheres of heaven and 

hell. 
Happen what may, above or underneath the sun, 
I only say, Thy will, O God, not mine, be done ! 



47^ SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



ROBERT COLLYER. 

(1823.) 

Rev. Robert Collyer was born at Keighly, Yorkshire, England, Dec. 
8, 1823. When he was only nine days old, his father, who was a black- 
smith, returned to Blubberhauses, not far distant, where he had previously 
lived, and where was the only early home the son remembers. All the 
school education the latter ever received was that which was given him 
between his fourth and eighth years of age, by one Willie Hardie, who 
" took to teaching because he had no use of his legs, and couldn't do any 
other work." Robert early became familiar with the Bible, Bunyan's 
" Pilgrim's Progress," the " Young Man's Companion," " Robinson Cru- 
soe," &c. When he was fourteen, he went to Ilkley, where he worked as a 
blacksmith with a man by the name of Birch. In 1847 he joined the Meth- 
odists, and in May, 1850, emigrated to America, having married the day 
before he set sail from England. For some time after his arrival in this 
country he was a preacher as well as blacksmith, at Shoemakertown, Pa. 
Through his acquaintance with Dr. Furness and others of like religious 
views, he was led to embrace Unitarianism, and was brought up for 
heresy by the Methodists, who refused to renew his license to preach. 
In 1859 he removed to Chicago, where we well remember visiting his 
mission in the winter of 1860-1861. Not long afterward, friends, who 
had come to know well his great natural gifts as a preacher and his rich 
and sunny nature, formed a new society for him, known as Unity Church, 
of which he has since remained the pastor. The story of his marvellous 
career in that great city of the West, not only as a preacher of the Liberal 
Faith, but as one of the most popular of lecturers, as a leader in every 
humane and noble cause, and as the author of several volumes, which 
have passed through successive editions, and have had a wide circulation, 
is too well known to require further notice here. The noble and beauti- 
ful church edifice which his large congregation built for him was swept 
away by the terrible fire that desolated the city in 1870 ; but another 
stately temple soon rose on its ruins, contributions flowing in abundantly 
from many parts of the country to make good the loss, and to enable him 
still to continue, with unabated success, his gracious ministry. He was 
recently called to the Church of the Messiah, in New York City, with an 
offer of $10,000 salary, but decided to remain in Chicago and with the 
people with whose interests and history his name and fame are so inti- 
mately and largely associated. 

Mr. Collyer, during his stay in America, has twice returned to Eng- 
land to see his aged mother, who has lately passed away, and to renew 
his acquaintance with the scenes of his childhood and youth. In one of 
these visits, when he was the object of much attention on the part of 



ROBERT COLLYER. 477 

those who had learned of his romantic and remarkable life, he said, in a 
speech made in London, June 3, 187 1 : " There has never been a moment 
in the twenty- one years that I have been absent from this land when it 
has not been one of the proudest recollections that I came of this grand 
old English stock ; that my grandfather fought with Nelson at Trafal- 
gar ; and my father was an Englishman and my mother an English- 
woman." 

Mr. Collyer published a volume of sermons entitled " Nature and 
Life," in 1867 ; " A Man in Earnest : A Life of A. H. Conant," in 1868 ; 
and another volume of sermons, "The Life that Now Is," in 1871. He 
has also contributed to various papers and magazines. A very interest- 
ing sketch of him, with illustrations, appeared in " Harper's Monthly," 
May, 1874 ; and another may be found in " Fraser's Magazine." 

This broad, genial, hearty, and eloquent Yorkshire man is a poet by 
nature. All his sermons and addresses are full of poetic beauty. We 
believe he has written but few verses. There is peculiar interest attach- 
ing to the two hymns which we copy. The one was the first he ever 
wrote, and was composed for the dedication of the church which was 
destroyed by fire, and the other was written for the dedication of the 
new edifice, Dec. 7, 1873. 



DEDICATION HYMN. 

T17ITH thankful hearts, O God, we come 

To a new temple built for thee ; 
And pray that this may be our home 
Until we touch eternity : — 

The common home of rich and poor, 
Of bond and free, and great and small ; 

Large as thy love for evermore, 

And warm and bright and good to all. 

And dwell thou with us in this place, 

Thou and thy Christ, to guide and bless ! 

Here make the wellsprings of thy grace 
Like fountains in the wilderness. 

May thy whole truth be spoken here ; 

Thy gospel light for ever shine ;- 
Thy perfect love cast out all fear, 

And human life become divine. 



47 8 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



UNITY CHURCH. 

f~\ LORD our God, when storm and flame 
Hurled homes and temples into dust, 
We gathered here to bless thy name, 
And on our ruin wrote our trust. 

Thy tender pity met our pain, 

Swift through the world the angel ran, 

And then thy Christ appeared again 
Incarnate, in the heart of man. 

Thy lightning lent its burning wing 
To bear his tear-blent sympathy, 

And fiery chariots rushed to bring 
The offerings of humanity. 

Thy tender pity met our pain ; 

Thy love has raised us from the dust : 
We meet to bless thee, Lord, again, 

And in our temple sing our trust. 



»o^o<» 

THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON. 

(1823.) 

Thomas Wentworth Higginson was born at Cambridge, Mass., 
Dec. 22, 1823. He is a descendant of Rev. Francis Higginson, the noted 
Puritan minister who came from England in 1629, and preached to the 
congregation of the first settlers in Salem. He graduated at Harvard 
College in 1841, and at the Divinity School in Cambridge in 1847 ; was 
settled over the First Congregational Society in Newburyport from 1847 
to 1850, and was the pastor of a Free Church at Worcester from 1852 to 
1858. He has been from his earliest manhood an ardent and active 
friend of the colored race, ready not only to advocate the rights of the 
bondmen and the freedmen by his voice and pen, but to make good his 
words by the power of the musket and the sword. He was wounded in 
the attempt to rescue Anthony Burns from the kidnappers in Boston in 



THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON. 479 

1854, and was indicted with Parker, Phillips, and others who were im- 
plicated in the same affair. He aided in the organization of bands of 
emigrants from the North to colonize Kanzas in 1856, and was a briga- 
dier-general on " Jim " Lane's staff in the military forces raised to repel 
the aggressions of the slave power upon that State. Having laid aside 
the clerical profession before the war broke out, he entered into actual 
service during the conflict, and was appointed colonel of the first regi- 
ment of black troops raised in South Carolina. In October, 1864, he 
was discharged in consequence of disability arising from a wound he 
received in an engagement on the Edisto River. Mr. Higginson now 
resides in Newport, R.I., where he is engaged in literary pursuits. 

He has long been known as a prominent contributor to the "Atlantic 
Monthly." His admirable and well-known "Out-door Papers," written 
for this magazine, were afterward collected in a volume and published 
in 1863. "Malbone," an Oldport Romance, also reprinted from the 
"Atlantic," appeared in 1869; "Army Life in a Black Regiment," in 
1870 ; and another volume of "Atlantic Essays," in 1871. He published 
a translation of "Epictetus " in 1865; and a French translation of his 
essay on the " Greek Goddesses " appeared in the Paris " Revue Bri- 
tannique," October, 1869. He has also edited the Harvard Memorial 
Biographies, in two volumes, being sketches of the lives of the graduates 
of the College who fell in the late war. Among the papers and periodi- 
cals to which he has contributed, are the "New York Independent," the 
"New York Tribune," the Boston "Woman's Journal," and "MacMil- 
lan's London Magazine." Mr. Higginson's writings are marked by a 
wonderful freshness and vigor of thought, and are distinguished for the 
purity and beauty of their style. 

The hymns and poems which he has composed are few in number, 
but they are of a very high order. We believe that quite all of them 
are presented here. 



A HYMN. 

Written for the Graduating Class, Cambridge Theological School, 1847. 

nrO veil thy truth by darkening or by hiding ; 

To stand irresolute, or shrink appalled ; 
To deal vague words of customary chiding ; 
Father ! to no such work thy voice hath called. 

Our eyes are dim, yet can we seek the duty ; 

Our ears are dull, yet can we shun the wrong ; 
'Tis not in vain that here, amid the beauty 

Of thy deep teachings, we have stayed so long. 



480 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Some wounds have turned to pearls ; some limbs offending 
We have had strength to seize and rend away ; 

Some passionate earthly songs have changed, in ending, 
To choral anthem and triumphant lay. 

To build of gentle hearts thy church, the peerless, 
To speak the truth in love, whate'er befalls, 

To make our brothers humble, tireless, fearless, 
This is the work to which thy Spirit calls. 

Some seeds we sow may blossom into flowers, 
And those bear fruit, to ripen 'neath thy sun ; 

And thou wilt lead these trembling hearts of ours 
On to that peace where aim and deed grow one. 



The next four pieces are from the " Book of Hymns." The first has 
been highly commended by eminent men as the best statement they have 
seen of the way in which the subject to which it relates stood to their 
own minds. The second was not, like the rest, inserted in the " Hymns 
of the Spirit," probably because the national evil to which it refers had 
become well-nigh a thing of the past. We give it a place here, with the 
others, that our collection of Mr. Higginson's hymns may be as com- 
plete as we can make it. 

THE MYSTERY OF GOD. 

~^TO human eyes thy face may see ; 

No human thought thy form may know ; 
But all creation dwells in thee, 

And thy great life through all doth flow ! 

And yet, O strange and wondrous thought ! 

Thou art a God who hearest prayer, 
And every heart with sorrow fraught 

To seek thy present aid may dare. 

And though most weak our efforts seem 
Into one creed these thoughts to bind, 

And vain the intellectual dream 
To see and know the Eternal Mind, — 






THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGIXSON. 48 1 

Yet thou wilt turn them not aside, 

Who cannot solve thy life divine, 
But would give up all reason's pride 

To know their hearts approved by thine. 

And thine unceasing love gave birth 

To our dear Lord, thy holy Son, 
Who left a perfect proof on earth 

That Duty, Love, and Truth are one. 

So, though we faint on life's dark hill, 

And Thought grow weak, and Knowledge flee, 

Yet Faith shall teach us courage still, 
And Love shall guide us on to thee ! 



THE NATION'S SIN. 

r ~T v HE land our fathers left to us 

Is foul with hateful sin : 
When shall, O Lord, this sorrow end, 
And hope and joy begin? 

What good, though growing might and wealth 
Shall stretch from shore to shore, 

If thus the fatal poison-taint 
Be only spread the more ? 

Wipe out, O God, the nation's sin, 

Then swell the nation's power ; 
But build not high our yearning hopes, 

To wither in an hour ! 

No outward show nor fancied strength 

From thy stern justice saves ; 
There is no liberty for them 

Who make their brethren slaves ! 



31 



482 SOA r GS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



THE HOPE OF MAN. 

HPHE Past is dark with sin and shame, 

The Future dim with doubt and fear 
But, Father, yet we praise thy name, 
Whose guardian love is always near. 

For man has striven, ages long, 

With faltering steps to come to thee, 

And in each purpose high and strong 
The influence of thy grace could see. 

He could not breathe an earnest prayer, 
But thou wast kinder than he dreamed ; 

As age by age brought hopes more fair, 
And nearer still thy kingdom seemed. 

But never rose within his breast 
A trust so calm and deep as now ; 

Shall not the weary find a rest ? 
Father, Preserver, answer thou ! 

'Tis dark around, 'tis dark above, 

But through the shadow streams the sun 

We cannot doubt thy certain love ; 
And man's true aim shall yet be won ! 



I WILL ARISE, AND GO TO MY FATHER. 

'T^O thine eternal arms, O God, 

Take us, thine erring children, in ; 
From dangerous paths too boldly trod, 

From wandering thoughts and dreams of sin. 

Those arms were round our childish ways, 
A guard through helpless years to be ; 

O, leave not our maturer days, 

We still are helpless without thee ! 



THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON. 483 

We trusted hope and pride and strength ; 

Our strength proved false, our pride was vain, 
Our dreams have faded all at length, — 

We come to thee, O Lord, again ! 

A guide to trembling steps yet be ! 

Give us of thine eternal powers ! 
So shall our paths all lead to thee, 

And life smile on, like childhood's hours. 



The following is from Scribner's Monthly, June, 1874 : — 
DECORATION. 

" Manibus date lilia plenis." 

'A/TID the flower-wreathed tombs I stand, 

Bearing lilies in my hand. 
Comrades ! in what soldier-grave 
Sleeps the bravest of the brave ? 

Is it he who sank to rest 
With his colors round his breast ? 
Friendship makes his tomb a shrine ; 
Garlands veil it ; ask not mine. 

One low grave, yon trees beneath, 
Bears no roses, wears no wreath ; 
Yet no heart more high and warm 
Ever dared the battle-storm. 

Never gleamed a prouder eye 
In the front of victory ; 
Never foot had firmer tread 
On the field where hope lay dead, 

Than are hid within this tomb, 
Where the untended grasses bloom ; 
And no stone, with feigned distress, 
Mocks the sacred loneliness. 



4§4 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Youth and beauty, dauntless will, 
Dreams that life could ne'er fulfil, 
Here lie buried, — here in peace 
Wrongs and woes have found release. 

Turning from my comrades' eyes, 
Kneeling where a woman lies, 
I strew lilies on the grave 
Of the bravest of the brave. 

Newport, R.I., Decoration Day, 1873. 



>S©£ 



FRANCES M. CHESBRO. 

(1824.) 

Mrs. Frances M. Chesbro was born in Warwick, Mass., July 13, 
1824, her parents being Amory and Sophronia Mayo, prominent mem- 
bers of the Unitarian Church in that town. Here and at Deerfield 
Academy she received her early education, and when she was only six- 
teen she began to teach district schools. At twenty, she was married to 
George L. Chesbro, who, like her father, was engaged in mercantile busi- 
ness. About this time she became acquainted with the gifted authoress, 
Miss Sarah C. Edgarton, who afterward became the wife of her brother, 
Rev. A. D. Mayo, now of Springfield, Mass., and at whose suggestion 
she began to contribute to various magazines and papers, some of which 
Miss Edgarton herself either edited or wrote for. The family removed 
at length to Gloucester, where Rev. Mr. Mayo was then the pastor of a 
Universalist Church, and where, after the sudden death of his accom- 
plished wife, on the 9th of July, 1848, they were gathered with him under 
the same roof. Here Mrs. Chesbro had the advantage of. her brother's 
library, and continued to write for the periodicals, many of her contribu- 
tions being sketches of character drawn from life. In 1858 she published 
a story-book for children, " Smiles and Tears," which she wrote mainly 
to weave into a pleasant story for her little daughter some of the events 
of her own early days in the country. Since then, she has sent numerous 
hymns and poems to the "Liberal Christian " and other Unitarian publi- 
cations, so far as her busy domestic life has permitted her to compose 
them. She now resides at Northboro', Mass., whither the family re- 
moved in 1866, and where she is an active member of the society which 
was so long under the care of the venerated Rev. Joseph Allen, D.D. 



FRANCES M. CHESBRO. 485 

Among her offerings are various hymns written for church anniversaries 
and occasional public services. Such pieces as we here cull from the 
books and the papers evince no small degree of poetic feeling and taste 
in their author. 

The first is from the "Ladies' Repository," whose editor, in copying 
it from an old number of "Peterson's Magazine," says : " We transfer it 
to our pages, not only for its grace and beauty, but also for its allusion to 
one whom none knew but to love. Many who read it will recall a grace- 
ful and beautiful girl, whose thoughtful face and rare, expressive words 
were an earnest of a lovely and useful life. But not here was to be its 
completeness. A sister's heart speaks in this delicate tribute." 



A MEMORY. 

TN the golden summer morning, 

In the rosy blush of dawn, 
Sits a robin in the casement, 

Singing softly in the morn. 
Her sweet warbling wakes my slumber, 

Breaks the tissue web of sleep, 
Drives away my dream of loved ones, 

Scatters visions wild and sweet. 

Softly o'er my wakened senses 

Steals the thought of olden time, 
When the robin's matin music 

Thrilled another heart than mine ! 
She so lovely, she so gentle, 

Sharing all my joy and pain, 
Lying on the pillow 'side me, 

Softly breathing, heard the same. 

Heard the same sweet bird-tones warbling, 

Singing in the rosy dawn : 
Now the robin sings more softly, 

Sweet, but sad, she sings forlorn. 
Oh, my songstress ! my sweet warbler ! 

Soaring into heaven's pure air, 
Take one message, bear it upward, — 

Upward to her home so fair ! 



486 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Tell her that the love she bore me 

Lifts me over earthly care ; 
Tell her that in dreams beside me 

Still I see her golden hair, 
Gleaming in the morning sunlight 

As it streams my casement through, — 
Through the casement where the robin 

Sings amid the morning dew. 

As the softly whispering breezes 

Touch the quivering jessamine vine, 
Still the dear voice that it murmurs 

Is thine ever, ever thine ! 
Bird and flower and trembling leaflet 

Lost an echo to their lay, 
When from out this curtained chamber 

Passed an angel soul away. 



HYMN OF PEACE. 

From the " Liberal Christian." 

TLJOW sweet, dear Lord, to rest 
Beneath thy sheltering arm, 
Encircled by thy love, 

Secure from every harm ; 
To lay the burden down, 

To drop the weary load ; 
To ease the trembling feet, 

Worn on the thorny road. 

How sweet, dear Lord, to rest 

Upon the mountain side ; 
To put the armor by, 

And in thy smile abide ; 
To see beneath our feet, 

In clearest vision spread, 
The narrow devious paths 

That to our mount have led : 



FRANCES M. CHESBRO. 487 

To lie within thine arms 

In quiet, peaceful rest, 
To feel no throb of pain, 

Serenely, calmly blest, 
As little children make 

A pause amid their play, 
And fly to loving arms 

Ere close of summer day. 

And then, with strength renewed, 

How sweet, dear Lord, to rise 
And view the upward path, 

With brighter, clearer eyes ; 
To raise the heavy weight 

Of daily toil and care, 
And with a freer step 

Rise into fresher air. 

The drooping arms we raise, 

The weary limbs grow strong, 
The murmur on our lips 

We change to grateful song ; 
We smile upon the load 

So heavy, now so light ; 
The clouds have rolled away, 

The day succeeds the night. 

No joy like this we know, 

Dear Lord, to do thy will ; 
Be it of grief or joy, 

Our bliss and duty still. 
How easy now and sweet 

To suffer, toil, and bear 
" All needful discipline," 

Since oar dear Lord is there. 



488 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

■ UNDER THE SNOW. 

From Rev. O. B. Frothingham's " Child's Book of Religion.'' 

T TNDER the snow the violets are budding, 

Nurtured and cherished within the warm earth ; 
Rich fragrance imbibing, while patiently waiting 

The word of command that shall wake them to birth. 

Under the snow the streamlets are sleeping, 
Lulled is the voice of their murmuring flow ; 

Their rest is not death, but life is renewing, 

While Spring's brightest promise is ice-bound below. 

Under the snow ! oh, under the snow ! 

Earth sleeps but to waken, and rests but to rise ; 
And silently toils in her storehouse below, 

Adding tint to the floweret, and splendor to skies. 

Under the snow, the beautiful snow, 

Rests all the fair future of promise and bloom ; 

The bud and the blossom, the summer's bright glow, 
The autumn's full fruitage, the winter's rich boon. 

Under the snow ! ah, under the snow ! 

* 
Lie buried the hopes of the sorrowing heart ; 

Wailing and sad the winds over them blow, 

While, weeping, they watch the dear promise depart. 

Oh, hear we not murmuring voices below, 

When we hopefully listen, and patiently wait, — 

The hurrying of unseen feet, that go 

On errands of love for humanity's sake ? 

Hear we the beating, the stir, and the strife 
Of forces that slumber by night nor by day, 

Abiding their time, when, bursting with life, 
They scatter their icy fetters away ? 

Though under the snow, deep under the snow, 
Lie hearts all despairing in sadness and gloom, 

The soft breath of spring-time will over them blow, 
And the pale bud of hope into rich beauty bloom. 



ALBERT LAIGHTON. 489 

ALBERT LAIGHTON. 

(1829.) 

Albert Laighton was born at Portsmouth, N.H., Jan. 8, 1829. 
His parents were John Laighton and Mary Damrell Laighton. He was 
educated at a private school in his native town, where he has continued 
to reside, and where he is employed as the teller of a bank. He has 
been twice married, his second wife living now. In 1859 he published a 
volume of " Poems." Selections from its pages very deservedly occupy 
a prominent place in the compilation entitled "Poets of Portsmouth." 
Among his later productions may be mentioned a beautiful " Ode of 
Welcome," written for the reunion of the sons and daughters of Ports- 
mouth, July 4, 1873, and a sonnet entitled "After Bloom," which was sent 
to the "Atlantic Monthly" in 1874. Most of those which we copy are 
from the volume of 1859. Mr. Laighton enjoys the warm friendship of 
not a few of our best American poets ; and letters from those who have 
known him long and well, bear witness that the fine spirit that breathes 
through his graceful verses is only the natural outflow from his own 
"sweetness of character." 

TO MY SOUL. 

C~* UEST from a holier world, 

Oh, tell me where the peaceful valleys lie ! 
Dove in the ark of life, when thou shalt fly, 
Where will thy wings be furled ? 

Where is thy native nest ? 
Where the green pastures that the blessed roam ? 
Impatient dweller in thy clay-built home, 

Where is thy heavenly rest ? 

On some immortal shore, 
Some realm away from earth and time, I know, — 
A land of bloom, where living waters flow, 

And grief comes nevermore. 

Faith turns my eyes above ; 
Day fills with floods of light the boundless skies ; 
Night watches calmly with her starry eyes 

All tremulous with love. 



49° SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

And, as entranced I gaze, 
Sweet music floats to me from distant lyres : 
I see a temple, round whose golden spires 

Unearthly glory plays ! 

Beyond those azure deeps 
I fix thy home, — a mansion kept for thee 
Within the Father's house, whose noiseless key, 

Kind Death, the warder, keeps ! 



NEW ENGLAND. 

\\ 7HAT though they boast of fairer lands, 
Give me New England's hallowed soil, 
The fearless hearts, the swarthy hands 
Stamped with the heraldry of toil. 

I love her valleys broad and fair, 

The pathless wood, the gleaming lake, 

The bold and rocky bastions where 
The billows of the ocean break ! 

The grandeur of each mountain-peak 
That rears to heaven its granite-form ; 

The craggy cliffs where eagles shriek 
Amid the thunder and the storm. 

And dear to me each noble deed 
Wrought by the iron will's of yore, — ■ 

The pilgrim-hands that sowed the seed 
Of Freedom on her sterile shore. 



THE MIDNIGHT VOICE. 

"CWTHER, at this calm hour, 

Alone, in prayer I bend an humble knee ! 
My soul in silence wings its flight to thee, 
And owns thy boundless power. 



ALBERT LAIGHTON. 49 1 

Day's weary toil is o'er ; 
No worldly strife my heartfelt worship mars ; 
Beneath the mystery of the silent stars, 

I tremble and adore. 

Not when the frenzied storm 
Writhes 'mid the darkness, till in wild despair, 
Bursting its thunder-chains, the lightning's glare 

Reveals its awful form, — 

I wait not for that hour : 
In flower and dew, in sunshine calm and free, 
I hear a still small voice that speaks of thee 

With holier, deeper power. 

Above the thunder-notes, 
Serene and clear, the music of the spheres 
For ever rolls, though not to mortal ears 

The heavenly cadence floats. 



TO A BIGOT. 

"V^OU strove in vain with cunning words 

And subtle arguments to gain 
A convert to your darling creed ; 

Then mocked me with your cold disdain. 

Ah, well, sip from your shallow fount ! 

The heart hath depths you may not know \ 
And. your philosophy would fail, 

Did you but judge of nature so. 

You do not hate the mountain-stream 
Because it floweth wild and free 

In hidden channels of its own, 

And finds at last its home, — the sea. 

You do not crush the wayside flower 
Because it wears a different hue 

From that which decks your garden-walks, 
And only breathes its sweets for you. 



49 2 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

You do not wound the forest-bird 
Because your caged canary sings 

A sweeter song. You vainly think, — 
Give me the freedom of my wings. 

Then if I soar beyond your flights, 
Or if I keep my lowly nest, 

What matter, since J am content 
To serve my God as seemeth best ? 



THE VEILED GRIEF. 

(^H, think not that my eyes are dry, 

Because you mark no falling tears : 
There flows a river deep and dark, 
Whose waters ebb not with the years. 

And think not that my lips are mute, 
Because you hear no spoken word 

Full-freighted with the tones of grief : 
I hear a voice you never heard. 

And think not that my heart is cold, 
Because no passion fires my breast : 

There is a chamber in my soul 
That only owns an angel-guest. 

My tears fall inward on my heart, 

And, dew-like, keep its memories green 

Sad strains unheard by other ears 
Break forth for me from lips unseen. 



A HYMN OF CONFESSION. 

r "F v HE homeless winds that wander o'er the land ; 

The deep-voiced thunder speaking words of fire ; 
The waves that break in sunshine on the strand, 
Or smite with storm-paled hands their rocky lyre ; 



ALBERT LAIGHTON. 493 

The stars that blossom in the fields of night ; 

The buds that burst in beauty from the sod ; 
The birds that dip their wings in rainbow light, — 

Are notes in Nature's symphony to God ! 

But as Creation's anthem onward rolls, 

From age to age, in grandeur still the same, 

We set the seal of silence on our souls, 
And sing no praises to his holy name. 

Our eyes are dazzled by the glare of Life ; 

We cannot see the sapphire-deeps above ; 
Our ears are deafened by its ceaseless strife ; 

We cannot hear the angels' songs of Love. 

Dust gathers on our mantles hour by hour ; 

We trail our robes in low and sensual things ; 
We yield our heart-wealth to the Tempter's power, 

And stain the whiteness of the spirit's wings. 

We fling the priceless pearl of Faith away, 

And count as treasure earth's corroding dross ; 

We bow to idols formed of fragile clay, 

But twine few garlands for the Saviour's cross. 



DEDICATION HYMN. 

f^\ FATHER, as in days of old, 

When men knew not thy wondrous love, 
And bowed to gods of wood and gold, 

Thou rulest on thy throne above ; 
Thou art the same unchanging Friend, 
And thy almighty arms defend. 

Thy hand still guides each rolling world, 
And stays the tempest's awful wrath, 

And on the bannered clouds unfurled 
Marks out the lightning's lurid path ; 

It weighs the mountains, holds the sea, 

And stretches through Infinity. 



494 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Ah, little human hands can do 

When measured by the matchless power 

That raised the hills, and arched the blue 
Wide heavens, that bless us every hour ; 

That made our frames, sustains our lives, 

And through all earthly change survives. 

Yet, Lord, we offer to thee now 

This temple built on hallowed ground ; 
' Oh, bless its walls ! for, while we bow, 
The sainted dead seem lingering round, 
As if with us they hither came, 
To own this tribute to thy name. 



THE TWO WORLDS. 

'T^HIS world is bright and fair, we know; 

The skies are arched in glory ; 
The stars shine on, the sweet flowers blow, 
And tell their blessed story. 

But softer than the summer's breath, 

And fairer than its roses, 
Will be the clime afar, when Death 

-The pearly gate uncloses ; 

The land where broken ties shall twine, 

And fond hearts will not sever, 
Where Love's pure light shall brighter shine, 

For ever and for ever ! 



The foregoing selections are from Mr. Laighton's volume of " Poems." 
The following pieces have been found elsewhere. The first of these 
latter is from the order of exercises in Rev. Dr. A. P. Peabody's pub- 
lished sermon, delivered at the closing of the Sunday School Room on 
Court Street, Portsmouth, Feb. 15, 1857. 



ALBERT LAIGHTON. 495 



ODE. 

HP HE everlasting mountains stand, 

Upheld by power divine ; 
And, guided by the Eternal hand, 
The rolling planets shine. 

For ever in majestic rhyme, 

The waves of ocean flow ; 
And changeless, like the pulse of Time, 

The ages come and go. 

Bat, Lord, our being is a span, — 

A breath that floats away ; 
And proudest structures reared by man 

Soon moulder and decay. 

Yet as within these crumbling walls 

A parting hymn we raise, 
How like a benediction falls 

The thought of vanished days ! 

O, as we mark the falling sands, 
No tears should dim our eyes ! 

We have a house not made with hands, 
Eternal in the skies. 



UNDER THE LEAVES. 



Copied from the " Poets of Portsmouth," in which some of the previous pieces are also 
to be found. 



/^\FT have I walked these woodland paths 

In sadness, not foreknowing 
That underneath the withered leaves 
The flowers of spring were growing. 



496 SOJVGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

To-day the winds have swept away 
Those wrecks of autumn's splendor ; 

And here the sweet arbutus-flowers 
Are springing fresh and tender. 

O prophet flowers ! with lips of bloom, 

Surpassing in their beauty 
The pearly tints of ocean's shells, — 

To teach me faith and duty. 

Walk life's dark ways, ye seem to say, 
In love and hope \ foreknowing 

That where man sees but withered leaves, 
God sees the fair flowers growing. 



TRUST IN THE SAVIOUR. 

C AVIOUR, when the loved depart, 

And the tears of sorrow flow ; 
When the bruised and bleeding heart 

Sinks with weariness and woe, — 
Let me feel thine arm beneath, 

As I weep above their dust ; 
Teach my murmuring lips to breathe, 

" In the Lord I put my trust." 

When for me the shadow falls, 

And all earthly glories fade, 
When the voice of Jesus calls, 

" Trembling soul, be not afraid ! " — 
May I near the vale of death, 

O thou Holy One and Just, 
Whispering with my latest breath, 

" In the Lord I puMny trust." 



MARTHA PERRY LOWE. 497 

MARTHA PERRY LOWE. 
(1829.) 

Mrs. Martha Perry Lowe was born at Keene, N.H., Nov. 21, 1829. 
Her maiden name was Martha A. Perry. Her parents, Justus and Han- 
nah (Wood) Perry, both died when she was about thirteen years of age. 
A few years later a sister and brother were also taken from her by death. 
Soon after these repeated trials and sorrows, she accompanied her 
remaining brother and sister to the West Indies, where together they 
passed a winter. Subsequently she went to Europe with her sister, and 
spent several months in Spain where her brother was serving as Secre- 
tary of Legation. She was married, Sept. 16, 1857, to Rev. Charles 
Lowe, whose pure and lovely character, strong Christian faith and saintly 
spirit, and earnest and indefatigable labors as the minister of several of 
the Unitarian churches, as Secretary of the Unitarian Association, and 
finally as editor of the " Unitarian Review," have embalmed him for ever 
in the grateful and affectionate remembrance of the communion from 
which he has so recently been called to the higher service. Not long 
after her marriage, Mrs. Lowe published a volume of poems, entitled 
" The Olive and the Pine," the words being typical of scenes in Spain 
and New England, which she contrasted in her verses. Several years 
afterward she published a second volume, "Love in Spain, and other 
Poems," containing a lyric drama of diplomatic and social life in that 
country, and also some pieces that had appeared from time to time dur- 
ing the late war in our own land. In 187 1 she accompanied her husband 
and two children to Europe, where she corresponded regularly with the 
"Liberal Christian," on subjects that were connected with the advance- 
ment of a broader religious faith in the Old World. She returned to 
America with her family in 1873, an ^ now resides in Somerville, Mass., 
where she has had her home for the last fifteen years, or since her hus- 
band was settled over the Unitarian Church there in 1859. The follow- 
ing are a few of her briefer pieces. 

SONG OF DAVID. 

TTOW good it is in love and peace to dwell ! 

'Tis like the perfume on young Aaron's head, 
That sweetened all his garments with the smell, 
When he the prayers of God's own people led. 
32 



49^ SOA T GS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

'Tis like the clew from Hermon's valleys fair, 
That riseth unto Zion's sacred hill, 

And falleth in perennial freshness there, 

While all the flowers their balmy breath distil. 

The Lord hath promised from his throne above 
The highest blessing which he hath in store, 

To his dear children, who abide in love, 
The priceless gift of life for evermore. 



EASTER EVEN. 

TT ALLOWED for ever be that twilight hour, 

When those disciples went upon their way ; 
The deepening shadows o'er their spirits lower, 
The tender griefs that come with close of day. 

A gentle stranger tarried by their side, 

And asked them sweetly why they were so sad ? 

" Hast thou not seen our Master crucified ? " 
They answered, " How can we again be glad ? " 

" Oh, children," said the stranger, " do you read 
The things which all the holy prophets said, 

How he would suffer and would die indeed, 
But yet should rise in glory from the dead ? " 

And when the little village came in view, 
They said, " Abide with us, for it is late ; " 

So he went in, and sat down with the two, 

And took the bread, and blessed it ere they ate. 

Their searching eyes were fastened on his face, 

They caught the look which chained them as of old, 

Only it wore diviner, loftier grace ; 

Their glorious risen Master they behold ! 






MARTHA PERRY LOWE. 499 

And then they knew how strangely all the while 
Their spirits burned within them as he talked, 

Or listened to them with that very smile, 

Explaining oft the Scriptures while they walked. 

They felt reward for all their bitter pain, 

When, lo, he vanished softly from their sight ! 

But they could never be so sad again, 

Who had the memory of that blessed night. 



WORK. 

ORD, send us forth among thy fields to work ! 
Shall we for words and names contending be, 

Or lift our garments from the dust we see, 
And all the noon-clay heat and burden shirk ? 

The fields are white for harvest, shall we stay 
To find a bed of roses for the night, 
And watch the far-off cloud that comes to sight, 

Lest it should burst in showers upon our way ? 
Fling off, my soul, thy grasping self, and view 

With generous ardor all thy brother's need ; 

Fling off thy dreams of golden ease, and weed 
A corner of thy Master's vineyard too. 

The harvest of the world is great indeed, 
O Jesus, and the laborers are few ! 



A CALL TO THE. CHURCHES. 

"VXTAKE, church of freedom, wake ! 'tis day J 

And go to all the waiting world ! 
Break, Liberal Christians, break your way, 
And let vour banner be unfurled ! 



O, what a heritage have we, — 
No terrors of Jehovah's rod ; 

O, what divinest liberty, 

To be the very sons of God ! 



500 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

We've mused too fondly and too well, 
A fire is burning now within ; 

Shall not our spirits yearn to tell 

The hidden grace that conquers sin ? 

Shall we not rise at this great hour 
With tongues of Pentecostal flame, 

And burn the fogs of doubt that lower, 
And give the Lord another name ? 

O, brethren, shall we wait to see 
Who is of Cephas, who of Paul ? 

Divided, then, shall Jesus be, 
He who can comprehend us all ? 

Sublimest Master, peerless Mind, 
Reaching the very core of truth, 

With eye so searching, yet so kind, 
Temper the rashness of our youth ! 

Be ours the creed which thou hast taught, 
Wider than earth or heaven above, 

Wider than all the realm of thought, — 
The great attraction of thy love. 



THE ROCK OF AGES. 

T SEE it ever there above my head ; 

Let me go up that I may sit and rest : 
There I shall see where all the pathways led, 

And find at length the way, 

And where I went astray. 

The thicket lures me with its mellow gloom ; 

I fathom dreamily its lone retreat, 

Nor see the rising vapors round me loom : 

But there no fog nor damp 

My breath can chill or cramp. 






SARA HAMMOND PALFREY. SOI 

I reach the slopes illumed with spots of sun ; 
They lighten up my heart to peaceful cheer ; 
Yet, when the noon is hot, I am undone ; 

But in that cleft 'tis cool, 

And calm, and beautiful ! 

Impatient as the longing butterfly, 

I scent the far-off flowers at golden morn ; 

How shall I find the meadows where they lie? 

Ah, there they'll come to sight, — 

Those gardens of delight. 

Two roads I reach at last, they hold me still \ 
Yet one of them my feet must surely take ; 
I will not go with blind and partial will ; 

Upon that Rock of Prayer 

I'll choose, and then I'll dare. 

O Rock of Ages, strong and sweet repose 
For all the pilgrims of mortality ! 
Bewildered at the morn, or evening close, 

Take them unto thy breast, 

And give them peace and rest ! 



SARA HAMMOND PALFREY. 

Sara Hammond Palfrey, daughter of John Gorham Palfrey, D.D., 
LL.D., was born in Boston, and now lives at Cambridge with her parents 
and sisters. Her published writings are a volume of poems, " Premices," 
Ticknor & Fields, Boston, 1850; "Herman, or Young Knighthood," 
Lee & Shepard, Boston, 1866; "Sir Pavon and St. Pavon," Lee & 
Shepard, Boston, 1867 ; "Agnes Wentworth," J. B. Lippincott & Co., 
Philadelphia, 1869; and articles and poems in "Putnam's," the "Atlan- 
tic," and other magazines, and in the New York "Nation," and various 
newspapers beside. Her nom de £lwne is " E. Foxton." 

THE CHILD'S PLEA. 

"OECAUSE I wear the swaddling-bands of Time, 

Still mark and watch me, 
Eternal Father on thy throne sublime, 

Lest Satan snatch me. 



$02 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Because to seek thee I have yet to learn, 

Come clown and lead me. 
Because I am too weak my bread to earn, 

My Father,- feed me. 

Because I grasp at things that are not mine 

And might undo me, 
Give, from thy treasure-house of goods divine, 

Good gifts unto me. 

Because too near the pit I creeping go, 

Do not forsake me. 
To climb into thine arms I am too low, — - 

O Father, take me ! 



THE EXCHANGE. 

Q* AD souls, that harbor fears and woes 
In many a haunted breast, 
Turn but to meet your lowly Lord, 
And he will give you rest. 

Into his commonwealth, alike 

Are ills and blessings thrown. 
Bear ye your neighbors' burdens ; lo ! 
Their ease shall be your own. 

Yield only up his price, your heart, 
Into God's loving hold ; 
He turns, with heavenly alchemy, 
Your lead of life to gold. 

Some needful pangs endure in peace, 
Nor yet for freedom pant ; 
He cuts the bane, you cleave to, off, 
Then gives the boon you want. 



SARA HAMMOND PALFREY. $°3 



QUARE TRISTIS ? 

T~\ 7HY shun, my soul, with downcast, cowed behavior, 

The strife that lowers ? 
Man's lot is pain ; shall Satan or the Saviour 

Attend on ours ? 

Still in the van is seen thy conquering warden ; 

And flight is loss. 
The soothing angels of the grievous garden 

Yet haunt the cross ; 

And if, accomplished all thy craven fears, 

That cross be mine, 
On high the martyrs sing, Faith grows in tears 

As pearls in brine. 

If 'twere not for the world, that comes between 

With cares unmeet, 
O child of God, by thee the stars were seen 

Beneath thy feet. 

Thou, Father, fallest into no mistake. 

We judge amiss, 
And often choose the drossy things that make 

Ignoble bliss. 

Then bless us, — but for this, with bended knee, 

On thee I call, — 
As we should pray that thou shouldst bless, if we, 

Like thee, knew all ! 



THE SEEKER. 

A LONG Time's river, — like a soul unborn 

That endlessly, on Chaos' shores forlorn, 
Flits through the long-drawn dark and finds no morn, — 
I rove with restless feet, and rove in vain. 
Slow grow my feet, and full of weary pain. 
'Tis mine to seek, but never yet attain. 



504 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Before me, like a boding wraith, I see 

The phantom pale of that which I should be. 

I cannot gain on it. It flies from me. 

Then cloth it climb and almost reach Thy side. 

I strain a tip-toe ; but my utmost tried, 

The round world rolls, and back from Thee I slide. 

Still this I would be ; and I am not aches 
Through all my futile life. That life it makes 
A burning desert, which no fountain slakes. 
" The thing I would do, that I do not," saith 
My spirit still, with faint and fainter breath. 
Who shall deliver me from all this death ? 

My God, in mercy let the voice, whose call 

Rang through the noonday night of Jewish Saul, 

And bade him rise the new-create St. Paul, — 

E'en though, like his, it bid me sufferings see, — 

Bid mine at last his own thanksgiving be : 

" I can do all, through Christ that strengtheneth me ! " 



WILLIAM EVERETT. 

(1839) 

William Everett, the third son of the late Hon. Edward Everett, 
was born at Watertown, Mass., Oct. 10, 1839. He received his earlier 
education at the public schools of Cambridge and Boston, and graduated 
at Harvard College in 1859, at Trinity College, Cambridge, England, in 
1863, and at the Dane Law School, Cambridge, Mass., in 1865. He was 
appointed Latin Tutor at Harvard College in 1870, and Assistant Pro- 
fessor of Latin in 1873. He was licensed to preach by the Boston Asso- 
ciation of Ministers in 1872, and during his connection with the College 
as a teacher has occupied many of the Unitarian pulpits in New England 
and New York. 

In January and February, 1864, he delivered before the Lowell Insti- 
tute, Boston, a course of twelve lectures on the University of Cambridge, 
England, which were afterward published under the title " On the 
Cam " (second edition, revised, Sever & Francis, 1867). He has also 



WILLIAM EVERETT. 505 

published two books for boys, "Changing Base," and " Double Play ; " 
" Hesione, or Europe Unchained," a poem before the Phi Beta Kappa 
Society of Harvard College, 186S ; and various other productions in 
prose and poetry, contributed to the magazines and papers. His hymns 
have the true inspiration and finish. 



"ADESTE FIDELES." 

A new song to an old theme and tune (Portuguese Hymn). From the " Monthly Maga- 
zine/' March, 1864. 

A TTEND, all ye faithful, your Leader's command ! 
His trumpet is sounding on sea and on land ; 
The cross in his banner is blazing afar, 
His armies are marshalled for labor and war. 

Put on, then, ye faithful, the arms of the Lord, — 
Salvation your helmet, the Spirit your sword ; 
With truth and the gospel your sinews be steeled, 
Be justice your breastplate, and faith be your shield. 

What soldier of Jesus shall shrink from his side, 
By armies though threatened, by perils though tried ? 
Our Captain we'll follow to conflict and death, 
And shout in his triumph while yielding our breath. 

The hosts of the alien with terror shall view 
The ranks undismayed of his followers true : 
His anthems of glory our shouts shall begin, 
While charging resistless the legions of Sin. 

And when to our prowess each traitor shall yield, 
And laden with spoils we return from the field, 
To Jesus our laurels we'll gratefully bring, 
Exalting the name of our conquering King. 

Dear Captain triumphant, we offer to thee 
The heart of the faithful, the arm of the free ; 
Thy word be our guide in thy warfare below, 
And ours be the glory thy promises show ! 



$06 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

The two following hymns are taken from a series of Mr. Everett's 
papers which were printed in the "Christian Register," and which he 
entitled " Walks to and from Church." 

THE GOD OF TENDERNESS. 

T^VEAL gently with us, Lord ! 

The ways of sin are wide ; 
O take us by thy tender hand, 
And in thy pathway guide. 

Deal gently with us, Lord ! 

Our foes press thick and bold : 
O who shall fight the warfare through, 

If thou thine arm withhold ? 

Deal gently with us, Lord, 

For Christ, thy Son, was kind ; 

O watch thou kindly o'er the sheep 
He left in grief behind. 

Deal gently with us, Lord, 

Then we shall gentle be ; 
And o'er our feeble brethren watch 

In love and charity. 

Thine arm in wrath that falls 
With doubt and dread we bear ; 

But every heart in rapture springs 
Its gentle touch to share. 

HYMN FOR THE SEASIDE. 

Written after a visit to the Grand Manan Island in August, 1861. 

f~\ THOU, whose Spirit o'er the deep 

^^^ Moved, and awaked the world from sleep ! 

Here on the ocean's craggy shore 

Thy power we own, thy love adore. 

In fixed bounds thy laws restrain 

The rising and the falling main ; 

° Go thou thus far," thy mandate said, 

" For here shall thy proud waves be stayed." 



WILLIAM EVERETT. 507 

When blithe the azure ripples play, 
In cresting wreaths of milk-white spray, 
Their sunlit breasts reflect thy smile 
In transport round the lonely isle. 

When loud the raging tempests rise, 
And roaring surges lash the skies, 
Trembling we own thy mighty hand, 
Which hurls their thunders on the land. 

Thy power along the sounding deep 
Piled the huge crags in ramparts steep ; 
Thine outstretched arm in safety hides 
The wayworn bark from warning tides. 

If through the sea our pathway lie, 
Father, be thou our pilot nigh ; 
And from life's storms and billows save 
For his dear sake who walked the wave. 

And when death's silent waters roll 
O'er fainting sense and parting soul, 
O take us to that blissful shore, 
Where ocean-floods shall beat no more ! 



PRAYER AGAINST CONCEIT* 

Luke vii. 58. 

T"\EAR Saviour, in my hour of pride, 

When all the world is gay around, 
And friends' and flatterers' empty praise 
Uplifts me with its charming sound, — 

Send down thy word with force divine, 
To kill the serpent in my heart : 

O thou long-suffering, teach once more 
How low am I, how high thou art. 

* Monthly Magazine, 1869. 



508 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Thou, whose transcendent spirit holds 

Creation open to its view, 
And, ages ere the worlds were made, 

The Father's inmost counsels knew, — • 

O tame and bind beneath thy hand 
The vain conceit that bids me soar ! 

Show me how poor is all my skill, 
How weak my voice, how mean my lore ! 

But since thy never-dying love 

Some boon on every child bestows, 

And none that meekly asks a share 
Ungifted from thy presence goes, — 

Grant those sweet friends thy bounty gives 
Thy life inspiring mine may see ; 

That they whom love to me hath bound 
Be ever one in God with thee. 



TO US THERE IS ONE GOD, THE FATHER. 

Written for the Unitarian Festival at the Music Hall, May 27, 1869. 

A LMIGHTY Father ! thou didst frame 
Our souls and bodies by thy will ; 
The matchless glories of thy name 
Our sole allegiance follows still. 

O righteous God ! thy love unchanged 
Gives every child an equal place ; 

And hearts thy terrors have estranged 
Melt in the sweetness of thy face. 

O loving God ! our thanks we pay 

That thou didst send thy Son on earth, — 

Our Lord, our light, our truth, our way, 
First-born of the immortal birth. 



WILLIAM EVERETT. 509 

O Father ! by his Spirit moved, 

May we be one with him in thee ! 
O make us loved as he has loved, 

And with his freedom make us free. 

Then through our land, redeemed, restored, 
Shall rise fresh incense to thy throne, 

And aye, through Jesus Christ our Lord, 
All power and praise be thine alone. 



THE CHILDREN'S GOD. 

Written for the 25th Anniversary of the Children's Mission to the Children of the 
Destitute, Boston, 1874. 

"pATHER, whose sheep in pastures fair 

Are folded safe, are richly fed, 
We bless thee that thy guardian care 

Through all these years our steps hath led. 

Our feet within thy courts would stand, 
Where every child alike finds room ; 

And small with great join hand in hand, 
To make thy heavenly kingdom come. 

All thanks to thee, that they whose life 
Without our help were drear and dark 

Have here been kept from sin and strife 
Beneath the shelter of thine ark. 

May thy dear Son within these walls 

His little flock for ever greet, 
Whose voice of strength and mercy calls 

The wandering children to his feet. 

Seal, Father, this our suppliant song, 
That, through the future as the past, 

Our children's children may prolong 
Thy works of love while time shall last. 



510 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

WILLIAM CHANNING GANNETT. 

(1840.) 

Rev. William C. Gannett, son of Rev. Ezra Stiles Gannett, D.D., 
and A. L. (Tilden) Gannett, was born in Boston, March 13, 1840. His 
father, of blessed memory, was long the honored minister of the Federal 
Street, afterward the Arlington Street Church, Boston, having been 
ordained as junior pastor with Dr. Channing, June 30, 1824. His sud- 
den and afflicting death by the terrible calamity on the Eastern Railroad, 
at Revere, Aug. 26, 187 1, is only too fresh in the public mind. The son 
graduated at Harvard College in i860, and then taught a year at New- 
port, R.I. Having next spent six months in the Divinity School at 
Cambridge, he devoted three and a-half years, during the war, to work 
among the freedmen. After the war was over, he passed a year in 
Europe, and then two years more in the Cambridge Theological School, 
graduating from that institution in 1868. For nearly two years (1868-70), 
he was the pastor of the Unitarian Church at Milwaukie, Wis. Since 
then he has resided chiefly in Boston, meanwhile preaching for a year 
(1871-72) for the Unitarian Society at Lexington, and occasionally in 
other places. 

He printed an article on the Port Royal Experiment, in the "North 
American Review," 1865, and one on Russian Emancipation, in the same 
publication, 1867. He has contributed to the magazines and papers 
various sermons, lectures, and addresses ; and has also written some 
very fine hymns and other poems, from which we make the following 
selections. Few productions of our younger bards seem richer in 
thought and expression than these, and we scarcely know where to look 
for a sweeter or more beautiful song than "The Secret Place of the 
Most High." 

"THE HILLS OF THE LORD." 

From " Old and New." 

/^OD ploughed one day with an earthquake, 

And drove his furrows deep ! 
The huddling plains upstarted, 
The hills were all aleap ! 

But that is the mountains' secret, 

Age hidden in their breast ; 
" God's peace is everlasting," 

Are the dream-words of their rest. 



WILLIAM CHANNING GANNETT. 5" 

He hath made them the haunt of beauty, 

The home elect of his grace ; 
He spreadeth his mornings on them, 

His sunsets light their face. 

His thunders tread in music 

Of footfalls echoing long, 
And carry majestic greeting 

Around the silent throng. 

His winds bring messages to them, 

Wild storm-news from the main ; 
They sing it clown to the valleys, 

In the love-song of the rain. 

Green tribes from far come trooping, 

And over the uplands flock ; 
He hath woven the zones together 

As a robe for his risen rock. 

They are nurseries for young rivers, 

Nests for his flying cloud, 
Homesteads for new-born races, 

Masterful, free, and proud. 

The people of tired cities 

Come up to their shrines and pray ; 
God freshens again within them, 

As he passes by all day. 

And, lo ! I have caught their secret, 

The beauty deeper than all ! 
This faith, that life's hard moments, 

When the jarring sorrows befall, 

Are but God ploughing his mountains ; 

And those mountains yet shall be 
The source of his grace and freshness, 

And his peace everlasting to me. 



512 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



SUNDAY ON THE HILL-TOP. 

From " The Index." 

/^~\NLY ten miles from the city, 
And how I am lifted away 
To the peace that passeth knowing, 
And the light that is not of day ! 

All alone on the hill-top ! 

Nothing but God and me, 
And the spring-time's resurrection, 

Far shillings of the sea ; 

The river's laugh in the valley, 
Hills dreaming of their past, 

And all things silently opening, 
Opening into the Vast ! 

Eternities past and future 

Seem clinging to all I see ; 
And things immortal cluster 

Around my bended knee. 

That pebble is older than Adam ! 

Secrets it hath to tell ; 
These rocks, — they cry out history, 

Could I but listen well. 

That pool knows the ocean-feeling 
Of storm and moon-led tide ; 

The sun finds its east and west therein, 
And the stars find room to glide. 

That lichen's crinkled circle 

Still creeps with the Life Divine, 

Where the Holy Spirit loitered 
On its way to this face of mine ; 

On its way to the shining faces 

Where angel-lives are led, 
Where I am the lichen's circle 

That creeps with tiny tread. 



WILLIAM CHANNING GANNETT. 513 

I can hear these violets chorus 
To the sky's benediction above ; 

And we all are together lying 
On the bosom of Infinite love. 

I — I am a part of the poem, 

Of its every sight and sound ; 
For my heart beats inward rhymings 

To the Sabbath that lies around. 

Oh, the peace at the heart of Nature ! 

Oh, the light that is not of day ! 
Why seek it afar for ever, 

When it cannot be lifted away ? 

Blue Hill, May 21, 1871. 

THE SECRET PLACE OF THE MOST HIGH. 

Read at the installation of the Fourth Unitarian Church of Chicago, April 24, 1873. 

nPHE Lord is in his Holy Place 

In all things near and far, 
Shekinah of the snowflake, he, 

And glory of the star, 
And secret of the April-land 

That stirs the field to flowers, 
Whose little tabernacles rise 

To hold him through the hours. 

He hides himself within the love 

Of those that we love best ; 
The smiles and tones that make our homes 

Are shrines by him possessed. 
He tents within the lonely heart 

And shepherds every thought ; 
We find him not by seeking long, 

We lose him not unsought. 

33 



514 SOA T GS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

So, though we build a Holy Place 

To be our Sinai-stand, 
The Holiest of Holies still 

Is never made by hand. 
Our Sinai needs the listening ear, 

Our Garden needs the vow : 
" Thy will be done," — and lo ! thy voice, 

Thy vision, as we bow ! 



"CONSIDER THE LILIES HOW THEY GROW." 

"LJE hides within the lily 

A strong and tender care, 
That wins the earth-born atoms 

To glory of the air ; 
He weaves the shining garments 

Unceasingly and still, 
Along the quiet waters, 

In niches of the hill. 

We linger at the vigil 

With him who bent the knee, 
To watch the old-time lilies 

In distant Galilee ; 
And still the worship deepens 

And quickens into new, 
As brightening down the ages 

God's secret thrilleth through. 

O Toiler of the lily, 

Thy touch is in the man ! 
No leaf that dawns to petal 

But hints the angel-plan. 
The flower-horizons open ! 

The blossom vaster shows ! 
We hear thy wide world's echo, — 

See how the lily grows. 



WILLIAM CHANNING GANNETT. 5*5 

Shy yearnings of the savage, 

Unfolding thought by thought, 
To holy lives are lifted, 

To visions fair are wrought ; 
The races rise and cluster, 

Transfigurations fall, 
Man's chaos blooms to beauty, 

Thy purpose crowning all ! 



DEDICATION HYMN. 

Written for the dedication of " Parker Memorial Hall," Boston, Sept. 21, 1873. 

r\ HEART of all the shining day, 

The green earth's still delight, 

Thou freshness in the morning wind, 

Thou silence of the night. 
Thou beauty of our temple-walls, 

Thou strength within the stone, — * 
What is it we can offer thee 

Save what is first thine own ? 

Old memories throng : we think of one, 

Awhile with us he trod ; 
Whose gospel-words yet bloom and burn, 

We called him Gift of God. 
Thy gift again ; we bring thine own, 

This memory, this hope, 
This faith, that still one temple holds 

Him, us, within its cope. 

Not that we see, but sureness comes 

When such as he have passed ; 
The freshness thrills, the silence fills, 

Life lives then in* the Vast ! 
Their vanished goodness quickens it, 

And touches every star, 
The Gift of God becomes himself, — 

Himself, so near, so far ! 



$l6 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



LISTENING FOR GOD. 

T HEAR it often in the dark, 

I hear it in the light, — 
Where is the voice that comes to me 

With such a quiet might ? 
It seems but echo to my thought, 

And yet beyond the stars ; 
It seems a heart-beat in a hush, 

And yet the planet jars ! 

O, may it be that far within 

My inmost soul there lies 
A spirit-sky, that opens with 

Those voices of surprise ? 
And can it be, by night and day, 

That firmament serene 
Is just the heaven where God himself, 

The Father, dwells unseen ? 

O God, within, so close to me 

That every thought is plain, 
Be judge, be friend, be Father still, 

And in thy heaven reign ! 
Thy heaven is mine, — my very soul ! 

Thy words are sweet and strong, 
They fill my inward silences 

With music and with song. 

They send me challenges to right, 

And loud rebuke my ill ; 
They ring my bells of victory, 

They breathe my " Peace, be still ! ' 
They ever seem to say : My child, 

Why seek me so all day ? 
Now journey inward to thyself, 

And listen by the way ! 



JOHN WHITE CHAD WICK. S l 7 

JOHN WHITE CHADWICK. 

(1840.) 

Rev. John W. Chadwick, son of John White Chadwick and Jane 
(Stanley) Chadwick, was born at Marblehead, Mass., Oct. 19, 1840. 
Leaving school at the age of thirteen, he was employed for some months 
in a dry-goods store, and afterwards engaged in shoe-making until 1857, 
when he went to the Bridgewater State Normal School, from which he 
graduated in February, 1S59. Shortly after, he went to the Academy at 
Exeter, N.H. : next studied for a year with a private tutor, and then 
entered the Cambridge Divinity School, graduating from the latter July 
19, 1864. He was ordained minister of the Second Unitarian Church, 
Brooklyn, X.Y., Dec. 21, 1864, Robert Collyer preaching the sermon, 
and married Annie Horton Hathaway, of Marblehead, June 28, 1865. 

In 1870, he published a life of his predecessor in the pastorate of this 
church, Rev. N. A. Staples, with selections from his sermons. He has 
contributed frequent papers to the " Christian Examiner," " The Radi- 
cal," "Old and New," "Harper's Monthly," and other magazines. 
Among those which appeared in the first of these periodicals were 
articles on Tertullian, John H. Newman, F. W. Newman, and Frances 
Power Cobbe. He has also published numerous poems, book-reviews, 
and other productions in the "Christian Register," the "Liberal Chris- 
tian," the "Independent," and the "Christian Union." His poems are 
characterized by a rare beauty and tenderness, and have found a home 
in many hearts. They are all full of richest promise. 

HYMN FOR VISITATION DAY. 

Written for the Graduating Class of the Divinity School, Cambridge, June 19, 1S64. 

"EXTERNAL Ruler of the ceaseless round 

Of circling planets singing on their way ; 
Guide of the nations from the night profound 

Into the glory of the perfect day ; 
Rule in our hearts, that we may ever be 
Guided, and strengthened, and upheld by. thee. 

We are of thee, the children of thy love, 
The brothers of thy well-beloved Son. 

Descend, O Holy Spirit ! like a dove, 

Into our hearts, that we may be as one, — 

As one with thee, to whom we ever tend ; 

As one with him, our Brother and our Friend. 



SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH, 

We would be one in hatred of all wrong, 
One in our love of all things sweet and fair, 

One with the joy that breaketh into song, 
One with the grief that trembles into prayer, 

One in the power that makes thy children free 

To follow truth, and thus to follow thee. 

Oh ! clothe us with thy heavenly armor, Lord, - 
Thy trusty shield, thy sword of love divine. 

Our inspiration be thy constant word ; 
We ask no victories that are not thine. 

Give or withhold, let pain or pleasure be, 

Enough to know that we are serving thee. 



SEALED ORDERS. 

" Thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter." 

/^UR life is like a ship that sails some day 

To distant waters leagues on leagues away ; 
Not knowing what command to do and dare 
Awaits her when her eager keel is there. 

Birth, love, and death are ports we leave behind, 
Borne on by rolling wave and rushing wind ; 
Bearing a message with unbroken seal, 
Whose meaning fain we would at once reveal. 

And there are friends that stand upon the shore 
And watch our sail till it is seen no more ; 
And cry, " Oh, would that we might know the way 
The brave ship goes for many a weary day ! " 

It may not be. But ever and anon 
Some order, sealed at first, we ope and con ; 
So learn what next, so east or westward fly, 
And ne'er again that port of birth espy. 

How many another craft goes dancing by ! 
What pennants float from morn and evening sky ! 
By day how white our wake behind us streams ! 
By night what golden phosphorescent gleams ! 



JOHN WHITE CHAD WICK. 5 r 9 

There comes a day when Love, that lies asleep 
The fairest island in the mighty deep, 
Wakes on our sight. Its fragrant shores we reach, 
And grates our keel upon its shining beach. 

There do we stay awhile ; but soon again 
We trim our sails to seek the open main ; 
And now, whatever winds and waves betide, 
Two friendly ships are sailing side by side. 

Where lies their course in vain they seek to know. 
" Go forth," the Spirit says, and forth they go \ 
Enough that, wheresoever they may fare, 
Alike the sunshine and the storm they share. 

Islands that none e'er visited before 
Invite to land with easy shelving shore ; 
Circes and sirens fling their challenge out, 
Charybdis deafens Scylla's deafening shout. 

For still these ships keep joyful company, 
And many a new strange land they haste to see. 
In port of Love 'twas pleasant to abide, 
But oh ! Love's sea is very deep and wide. 

Ay, deep and wide, and yet there comes a day 
When these fond ships must sail a parted way ; 
The port of Death doth one of them beguile, 
The other lingers for a little while. 

Lingers as near as she may dare to go, 
And plies the cold, gray offing to and fro ; 
Waiting impatient for the high command 
To sail into the shadow of the land. 

Is this the end ? I know it cannot be. 
Our ships shall sail upon another sea ; 
New islands yet shall break upon our sight, 
New continents of love and truth and might. 



520 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

But still not knowing, still with orders sealed, 
Our track shall lie across the heavenly field ; 
Yet there, as here, though dim the distant way, 
Our strength shall be according to our day. 

The sea is His, He made it, and His grace 
Lurks in its wildest wave, its deepest place : 
Our truest knowledge is that He is wise ; 
What is our foresight to his sweet surprise ! 

ORDINATION HYMN. 

Written for the ordination of Mrs. Celia Burleigh as pastor of the Unitarian Church at 
Brooklyn, Conn., 1871. 

/ T^0 preach Good Tidings ! this the call 

Heard by thy chosen one of old ; 
And from his heart the tide uprose, 
And from his lips the current rolled. 

To preach good tidings ! once again 

That call divine is heard to-day ; 
And to obey the high command 

Thy servant here is on her way. 

Tidings of faith and hope she brings, — 

Of faith that cannot doubt or fear, 
But in the darkest hour can trust 

A loving Father ever near. 

Of hope for all who live or die, 

For all who sin or suffer pain ; 
That all who here must say farewell, 

May somehow, somewhere, meet again. 

Tidings of love from God to man ; 

Of human love that makes reply 
Of man for man, of each for all, 

Here and for evermore on high. 

O Father ! may her word be blest 
To all who love this sacred place ; 

Here may they learn to love thy law, 
And here rejoice to see thy face. 



JOHN WHITE CHAD WICK. $21 



SADNESS AND GLADNESS. 

HP HERE was a glory in my house, 

And it is fled ; 
There was a baby at my heart, 
And it is dead. 

And when I sit and think of him, 

I am so sad, 
That half it seems that nevermore 

Can I be glad. 

If you had known this baby mine, 

He was so sweet 
You would have gone a journey just 

To kiss his feet. 

He could not walk a single step, 

Nor speak a word ; 
But then he was as blithe and gay 

As any bird 

That ever sat on orchard-bough 

And trilled its song, 
Until the listener fancied it 

As sweet and strong 

As if from lips of angels he 
Had heard it flow, — 

Such angels as thy hand could paint, 
Angelico ! 

You cannot think how many things 

He learned to know, 
Before the swift, swift angel came 

And bade him go. 

So that my neighbors said of him, 

He was so wise 
That he was never meant for earth, 

But for the skies. 



522 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

But I would not believe a word 

Of what they said ; 
Nor will I, even now, although 

My boy is dead ; 

For God would be most wicked, if, 

When all the earth 
Is in the travail of a new 

And heavenly birth, 

As often as a little Christ is found 

With human breath, 
He, like another Herod, should resolve 

Upon its death. 

But should you ask me how it is 

That yours can stay, 
Though mine must spread his little wings 

And fly away, 

I could but say that God, who made 

This heart of mine, 
Must have intended that its love 

Should be the sign 

Of his own love ; and that if he 

Can think it right 
To turn my joy to sorrow, and 

My day to night, 

I cannot doubt that he will turn 

In other v/ays 
My winter-darkness to the light 

Of summer-days. 

I know that God gives nothing to 

Us for a day ; 
That what he gives he cannot bear 

To take away. 



JOHN WHITE CHAD WICK. 5 2 3 

And when he comes and seems to make 

Our glory less. 
It is that by and by we may 

The more confess 

That he has made it brighter than 

It was before, — 
A glory shining on and on 

For evermore. 

And when I sit and think of this, 

I am so glad, 
That half it seems that nevermore 

Can I be sad. 



AFTER SWEET SINGING.* 

" Consider the lilies." 

I" THINK if he who spake that blessed word 
Had sat with us this summer-morning hour, 

And heard thy tones, so full of music's power, 
He would have thought some mellow-throated bird, 
The praise of his sweet kin just having heard, 

Had echoed back the praise of bird and flower 

From where he listened in his leafy bower, 
So giving thanks for honor high conferred. 

I think that if the birds themselves should hear 
Across this air, so sweet with lilies made, 

Thy cheery notes ring out so fresh and clear, 
While all their own are hushed till evening's shade, 
They, too, would wonder from what song-bird rare 
Came such a song, so sweet beyond compare. 

* From the " Christian Union." 



5 24 SOA'GS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



ANOTHER YEAR. 

''"PHAT this shall be a better year 

Than any past away, 
I dare not at its open door 
To wish or hope, or pray. 

Not that the years already gone 

Were wearisome and lone ; 
That so with hope too long deferred 

My heart has timid grown. 

Nay ] rather that they all have been 

So sweet to me and good, 
That if for better I should ask 

'Twould seem ingratitude. 

And so with things far off and strange 

I do not care to cope, 
But look in Memory's face and learn 

What largess I may hope. 

Another year of setting suns, 

Of stars by night revealed, 
Of springing grass, of tender buds 

By winter's snow concealed. 

Another year of summer's glow, 
Of autumn's gold and brown, 

Of waving fields, and ruddy fruit 
The branches weighing down. 

Another year of happy work, 

That better is than play ; 
Of simple cares and love that grows 

More sweet from day to day. 

Another year of baby-mirth, 
And childhood's blessed ways, 

Of thinker's thought and prophet's dream 
And poet's tender lays. • 



CHARLES H. A. BALL. S 2 S 

Another year at Beauty's feast 

At every moment spread, 
Of silent hours when grow distinct 

The voices of the dead. 

Another year to follow hard 

Where better souls have trod ; 
Another year of life's delight, 

Another year of God. 



CHARLES SUMNER. 

" Si monumentum requiris, circumspice." 

A Y, look around ; but thou mayst not behold 

Aught built of stone, and carved magnificent, 
With dome or spire high up towards heaven sent, 

And blazoned all with crimson and with gold. 

By no such wonders can his worth be told ; 
Not such indeed shall be his monument, 
Our Statesman, who upon God's errands went, 

For freedom's sake the boldest of the bold. 
But look around, and say what thou dost see ; 

Or think it solemnly with bated breath : 
A nation with no man who is not free 

A nation living after years of death 
And yet to live a life more pure and high 
Because this man for her could live and die. 



>^.c 



THE DALLS. 

Rev. Charles H. A. Dall, son of James Dall, of Boston, and Hen- 
rietta (Austin) Dall, of New Haven, was born in Baltimore, Md., and is 
of Scotch descent, three generations of the family having lived in this 
country. He graduated at Harvard College in 1837, went to St. Louis 
with Rev. William G. Eliot, and then, after having spent a year in 



526 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Europe, was Minister at Large in Baltimore. Leaving Baltimore at the 
end of three years on account of ill -health, he was settled successively 
at Portsmouth, N.H., Needham, Mass., and Toronto, Canada. His 
zeal in missionary work, together with the necessity of seeking some 
more congenial climate, took him, in February, 1855, to Calcutta, India, 
where he has since remained in the service of the American Unitarian 
Association, and at the head of the Mott Street Art School, earnestly 
laboring for nearly twenty years to teach the natives in various branches 
of knowledge, and to disseminate far and wide the views and sentiments 
of a Liberal Faith. With this object in view, he has from time to time 
visited different parts of the country, and circulated copies of hundreds 
of his sermons and lectures. He has also written many fine hymns and 
poems, some of which have been published in our periodicals, and a few 
of which we present here. 



AFTER A STORM IN THE BAY OF BENGAL. 

From the " Monthly Magazine." 

f~\ GOD, who dwellest in the surging sea ! 
^^^ Thy glorious beauty shines for ever there : 
From ocean's vales, where grows the coral-tree, 
Up to its dancing peaks that kiss the air, — 
In all, through all, thy mystic love is blent, 
Clothes its dark plain and stars its firmament ! 

Oh ! it is life, 'tis joy, 'tis ecstasy 

To sit, dear Father ! face to face with thee ; 

To hear thee whisper in the ocean's roar ; 

To watch thy finger turn its billows o'er, 

To mark thy hand, what time the tempest lowers, 

Crown all its leaping heights with almond-flowers. 

How shall I bless thee, that the lonely Sea 

For ever hides its loneliness from me ! 

Lives to my thought and sense, gives to my eye 

God walking 'mid a floral pageantry ; 

God bidding snow-capped mountains leap like rams, 

And toying with these little hills like lambs ! 



CHARLES H. A. DALL. $^7 



THE SOUTHERN CROSS. 

T3EARING the Saviour's story 

O'er many a league of flood, 
'Neath Afric's sky of glory, 

In midnight prayer I stood, 
While other constellations 

The Southern Cross outshone, 
And said, " Go teach all nations 

The Cross, that wins the Crown." 

" Take, Lord ! oh, my Defender ! " - 

The grateful herald prayed, — 
" My uttermost surrender 

Of heart and hand and head ! " 
" The cross of suffering, wear it," — 

Came whispered o'er the sea : — 
" Fear not, for thou canst bear it : 

" Christ bore it once for thee." 



HUNGER AND THIRST. 

"D EJOICE and be exceeding glad, 

Thou heart, that seekest all things here 
Only to find them void, — and thou 
Still hungering for a better cheer. 

Oh, blessed thirst for righteousness ! 

Oh, hunger for the true and good ! 
The fountain never groweth less : 

God is thy drink, — his love thy food ! 



IN THY LIGHT SHALL WE SEE LIGHT 

/^\UR wisest wisdom's chosen gate 

Thou never yet hast shut, O God, 
But lo ! another opened straight 
To win us to a better road. 



528 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Too ready rose our wilful thought 
To doubt the mystery of thy will, 

Until our own experience taught, — 
Thine ill was good, our good was ill. 

Our wishes fail us, one by one ; 

Our darling joy brings bitter pain ; 
Thy will for evermore be done, 

And never, never ours again. 



DEATH. 

For a little child. 

/^*OD cannot die : 

Then why should I, 
His child, believe in dying ? 

To him I so 

Do long to go, 
I'm praying while I'm crying. 

Of stars and flowers 

And happy hours 
And soft-winged angels playing, 

I nightly dream ; 

And daily seem 
To hear what they are saying. 

Though Death have pain, 

It has a gain 
Exceeding all its sorrow : 

See, angels stay 

While I delay, — 
And you will come to-morrow ! 



CHARLES H. A. DALL. 529 

The following hymn is from Bulfinch's " Harp and Cross : " — 
THE POWER OF TRUTH. 

As for truth, it endureth, and is always strong : it liveth and conquereth for evermore." 
1 Esdras iv. 38. 

/^REAT is the earth, O God ! 
But mightier still is truth ; 
As thou endurest, so it stands 
Strong in eternal youth. 

High is the pure, blue heaven ; 

Truth is as pure and high ; 
All angels bless thy righteousness, 

All men repeat the cry. 

Unerring flies the sun, 

But truth is surer yet ; 
The nations, quickened in its course, 

Shall live, ere truth is set. 

Transient are human works, 

Imperfect human thought ; 
We perish in unrighteousness, 

If truth inspire us not. 

Christ yesterday, to-day, 

For ever, — conquers, lives ; 
Christ is thy truth and power for aye ; 

'Tis Christ thy kingdom gives. 

No truth but is in him, 

He claims no greatness else ; 
The majesty of ages, he 

Comes in the truth he tells. 



34 



530 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 



Mrs. Caroline H. Dall, wife of Rev. Charles H. A. Dall, was 
Caroline Wells Healey, daughter of Mark and Caroline (Foster) Healey. 
She was born in Green Street, Boston, in which city her father was a 
prominent India merchant. Inheriting the blood of many of the old 
Massachusetts-Bay families, of Winthrop, Dudley, Rogers, Bradstreet, 
and Symonds, she traces her lineage back through an almost unbroken 
line of clergymen for fully three centuries, and numbers among her 
ancestors, on both sides, William Whittingham, the translator of the 
Geneva Bible, and Katharine Jacqueman his wife, heiress of Turvyle 
and Gouteron, whose only sister was Idolette de Bure, the wife of 
John Calvin. She early learned the modern languages, and began to 
write for the newspapers when only thirteen years of age. Her first 
book, consisting of moral and religious essays which she had used in 
the course of Sunday school instruction, was published in 1849, an ^ was 
written when she was but eighteen. She was married to Mr. Dall while 
he was minister at Baltimore, where with him she became much inter- 
ested in the slaves, made a first census of the free colored people of the 
district in which she resided, taught the negroes how to read, and con- 
tributed articles on the general subject to the Northern journals. She 
began her annual contributions to the " Liberty Bell " in 1850; at To- 
ronto, was correspondent editor of the "Una," a woman's paper, pub- 
lished at Providence, R.I., and was the agent of a society for assisting 
fugitives from slavery ; in 1855 aided in calling a Convention at Boston 
to discuss the Rights of Woman, and brought in a Report on the laws 
relating thereto of the several New-England States ; and afterward, 
during successive winters, gave series of lectures upon topics connected 
with the new reform, that were first given to the press in various small 
books, and that were still later collected, revised, and enlarged, and 
issued by Lee & Shepard in a single volume, under the title, " The Col- 
lege, the Market, and the Court ; or, Woman's Relation to Education, 
Labor, and Law." Her other works are a " Life of Marie E. Zakrzewska, 
M.D. ; " " Historical Pictures Retouched ; " "Sunshine : A New Name 
for a Popular Lecture on Health ; " and " Egypt's Place in History." The 
last is a pamphlet in which the authoress gives a concise statement of 
the results of Bunsen's herculean labors as they are presented in his 
great work bearing the same title. 

In addition to these philanthropic labors and literary productions, 
are to be mentioned her continued interest and service in Sunday Schools, 
her life-long devotion to the poor and suffering children in Boston, her 
instruction of classes of adults in Philology, Biblical Criticism, Shake- 
speare, and Herodotus, her agency in the formation of the Social Science 
Association, her frequent preaching in Unitarian pulpits, and her numer- 
ous lectures and periodical contributions other than those which have 
been referred to. Her writings attest her superior intellectual ability and 
her ample range of learning, while she is a recognized leader in organized 



CAROLINE H. DALL. 53 1 

charities, and in various other enterprises or movements that seek the 
general welfare. She still continues her work of usefulness in the city 
in which she was born, and in which she has resided since her husband 
went to India. 

Like so many others of whom we have given some account in this 
volume, and who are known chiefly as prose writers, Mrs. Dall has 
given us some good verses. The first of our selections is a very pleasing 
poem suggested to the authoress by the prattle of her Willie, when he 
was four years old, and entitled, — 



WHAT A BLUE-BIRD SAID TO A LITTLE BOY. 

" \T/ HAT do you say to God, little bird, 

In the morning soft and gray, 
When with music sweet you welcome in 
The coming of the day ? " 

" I thank him for all my happy rest 

By the side of my tender mate ; 
For the soft and mossy bed in my nest 

Close by your garden-gate." 

" What do you say to God, little bird, 
When the noonday sun shines bright, 

When you hide in the forest green, away 
From the hot and quivering light ? " 

" I thank him for four little spotted eggs, 
Lying warm at their mother's heart ; 

For the patient trust with which she waits 
Till her young into being start." 

" What do you say to God, little bird, 
When you sing your evening hymn, 

When you see the red sun sink in the west, 
And my little eyes grow dim ? " 

" I thank him for all my fine fat w r orms, 

For my beetles large and rare ; 
And I pray that he may never cease 

To make little birds his care ! " 



532 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

" What do you say to God, little bird, 
When the April showers come down, 

When the south wind moans among the trees, 
And the stormy heavens frown ? " 

" I thank him for drink, and for feathers warm, 
And I smooth my ruffled coat ; 

And I'm glad I've wings to cut the air, 
When the earth is all afloat." 

" But what do you say all the time, little bird, 

For your voice is never still ? 
And in forest and meadow I never miss 

The sound of its happy trill. 

" I can never sing enough, little boy, 
When my little ones break their shell, 

And my tired mate chirps with joy to see 
Her nurslings all hearty and well. 

" I can never say enough, little boy : 

I was only made to sing. 
If I cannot work, I must make the aisles 

Ot the grand old forest ring ! " 

" But sweeter far is the music of deeds, — 
Your kind Father listens above ; 

And, while he provides for your hourly needs, 
Go labor and win his dear love." 

.844. 1 



THE OLD RED ROCK. 

" Behold, we count them happy which endure." 

T^HE old red rock tempts the salt sea-wave, 

A shapeless mass at the first ; 
About it the white foam gently plays, 
And the storm-tost billows burst. 



1864. 



CAROLINE H. DALL. 533 

The shapeless rock is a steadfast thing, 

And the tide to its motion is true. 
A sacred law binds the first to its bed, 

That the second its work may do. 

So out of the waiting, the mist, and the pain 

Is born a fair outline at last ; 
And eyes may rest where glad curves sweep 

No limit of God overpast. 

The rock never yields, the wave never lulls, 
Both ceaselessly strive through the clay ; 

And out of the conflict the soft lines are born, 
Strength smiting a charm from the spray. 

So believe me, beloved, the soul shall grow fair 

If it patiently welcome its pain; 
If, jagged and flinty, it patiently bear 

God's billows again and again. 



AT A DEATH-BED. 

T^EAR eyes that never looked reproach 

Dear lips that always smiled, 
Dear heart of grace, that never lacked 
The sweet thought of a child ! 

How shall my life go on, when yours 

Is wrapped in fuller light ? 
How dream a sun shall ever rise 

Upon so drear a night ? 

" Come, lead me," once you gently said, 

" Lead onward to the end : 
Putting my hand in yours, I see 

My Father is my Friend." 

My darling, I am led in turn 

Along the sweet green way ; 
Bless God for all the light you give 

With thoughts that never stray. 



534 SOA r GS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Close to that Father's arm you cling, 
Your dear eyes seek his face, 

Your loving lips still chant his praise, 
Your heart accepts his grace. 

My darling, as I see you go, 

I scarce can stay alone : 
The glory from the Godhead draws 

Both waiting spirits on. 

Good-night ! we say who linger here ; 

But you, a glad Good-morrow ! 

The joy that angels feel, you know, — 

Their peace we feebly borrow. 
1869, 



William Cranch Healey Dall, oldest child of Mr. and Mrs. Dall, 
above mentioned, was born in the house of his grandfather, in Temple 
Street, Boston, Aug. 21, 1845. He was educated chiefly at home, and at 
the Brimmer School. He was the youngest member ever elected into the 
Boston Society of Natural History. He left home for Chicago at a very 
early age, and in 1865 went with Robert Kennicott to Alaska. After the 
purchase of that territory, he pursued the plans of Mr. Kennicott, who 
had died, and published, on his return in 1869, his well-known work on 
Alaska, profusely illustrated from his own drawings. He has written 
more than eighty scientific monographs, and is at present in the Aleutian 
Islands, employed by the United States Coast Survey. With his de- 
cided talent for such labors, he unites no small share of the poet's gift, 
as we think these few selections from his verses sufficiently show. 



GOD'S HARVEST. 

TN passing through the harvest-field, 

One bright September morn, 
I saw them binding up the sheaves, — 
The poppies with the corn. 

The florid crimson petals lay 

Half wilted and forlorn : 
" Why dost thou bind, I fain would ask, 

These poppies with the corn ? " 



WILLIAM C. &. BALL. 535 

No answer gave the busy swain, — 

While asking, he was gone ; 
And still the sturdy reapers bound 

The poppies with the corn. 

I mused upon the harvests fled 

Since I a babe was born ; 
And thought how I had also bound 

The poppies with my corn ! 

And when- to gather in his seed 

The Reaper sounds his horn, 
Shall flaunting weeds or fruitful ears 

Make up my store of corn ? 

Alas ! reflecting on my way, 

My soul with anguish torn, 
I own my sheaf of crimson dark, 

The poppies hide the corn ! 

Yet if, in weary, conscious fear 

The scanty ears I mourn, 
I dare to hope God too may bind 

Some poppies with His corn. 



IT IS I : BE NOT AFRAID. 



r^HRIST will gather in his own 

To the place where he has gone, 
Where our heart and treasure lie, 
Where our Life is hid on high. 



Day by day the voice cries, " Come, 
Enter thine eternal home," 
Asking not if we can spare 
The dear soul it summons there. 



536 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FAITH. 

Had God asked us, well we know 
We should murmur, " Spare this blow : " 
Yes, with streaming tears should pray, 
" Lord, we love him : let him stay ! " 

But the Lord does naught amiss ; 
And, since he hath ordered this, 
We our restless hearts must still, 
Wait in silence on his will. 

Many a friend no longer here, 
To the soul was all too dear : 
Yet, O Love ! 'tis thou dost call, — 
Thou wilt be our All in all. 



THE GRAVE OF AGASSIZ. 

/^\PEN your gates, O grave ! 

^^^ Make broad your passage-way ! 

The form for which we ask a place 

Is not of common clay : 

The fertile brain, the silver tongue, 

The genial voice which we 

Rejoiced to hear, are still. 

We bring our Agassiz. 

Chant in the pines, ye winds ! 

Murmur, ye waters deep ! 

The searcher of your heights and depths 

Lies in his last calm sleep. 

The seeker after truth and light, 

The reader of the past, 

The leader in incessant work, 

Has found his rest at last. 

Ye rustling, dying leaves, 

Drop gently o'er his tomb ; 

Ye creatures, whom in life he loved, 

In reverent silence come. 



WILLIAM C. H. BALL. 537 



Pupils, who by his earnest life 
And burning words were fed, 
Gather around this silent dust 
In honor to the dead. 



Earth, in thy bosom sweet, 
And soft brown mantle, fold 
The ashes of the sage who taught 
That truth is more than gold. 
Leave to the warrior's head 
The vaunted laurel-crown : 
Be lilies wet and violets 
Upon this grave laid down ! 



SCATTERED. 

HPHE sun is set, the silver moon 
A chastened radiance flings 
O'er rock and ripple, wave and hill ; 
And the calm evening, bright and still, 
A train of musing brings. 

In India's hot and sultry clime, 

For India's tawny race, 
A father gives his strength and life, 
Parts from his country, home, and wife, 

To spread the Gospel's grace. 

On Massachusetts' friendly shore, 

For her sad sisterhood, 
A wife employs her busy pen, 
Teaching how side by side with men 

Its work shall yet stand good. 

In Northern regions bleak and bare, 
O'er rock and sea and snow, 



538 SONGS OF THE LIBERAL FATTH. 

The son for wisdom seeks, and braves 
The arctic cold and hostile waves, 
Some Nature -truth to know. 

Knowledge to gain and truth to tell, 

Near home or far abroad, — 
This service brings no meed of gold : 
Work will its own pure joys unfold, 
Though rugged be the road ! 



EXCELSIOR. 



/^VNWARD and upward, be the motto mine ! 

^-^ Better with action than with rust to wear ; 

Shaking off sloth, to tread a path divine, 
To breathe an atmosphere of purer air, 

Where granite-peaks their rugged sides incline. 
But glorious sunshine wraps those summits bare, 
And God's own presence seems to linger there. 



ALPHABETICAL INDEX OF AUTHORS. 



PAGE 

Adams, John Ouincy 9 

Alger, William Rounseville 469 

Bartol, Cyrus Augustus 347 

Brooks, Charles T 353 

Brown, Francis 153 

Bryant, William Cullen 114 

Bulfinch, Stephen Greenleaf 238 

Burleigh, William Henry 315 

Chadwick, John White 517 

Chesbro, Frances Mayo 484 

Clarke, James Freeman 283 

Collyer, Robert 476 

Dall, Caroline Healy 530 

Dall, Charles H. A 525 

Dall, William C H 534 

Davis, John 3 

Davis, Samuel 7 

Davis, William T 8 

Everett, William 534 

Fields, James Thomas 437 

Flint, James 21 

Follen, Eliza Le£ 55 

Freeman, James 1 

Frothingham, Nathaniel Langdon C7 

Frothingham, Octavius Brooks 454 

Furness, William Henry 159 



540 ALPHABETICAL INDEX OF AUTHORS. 

PAGR 

Gannett, William Channing 510 

Gilman, Caroline 76 

Gilman, Samuel 72 

Gray, Thomas, Jr 171 

Hale, Mary Whitwell 261 

Hall, Louisa Jane 155 

Hedge, Frederic Henry 205 

Higginson, Thomas Wentworth 478 

Hill, Thomas 410 

Holmes, Oliver Wendell '. . 252 

Johnson, Samuel 445 

Laighton, Albert 489 

llvermore, abiel abbot 312 

Livermore, Sarah White 61 

Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth 217 

Longfellow, Samuel 428 

Lowe, Martha Perry 497 

Lunt, William Parsons 194 

Mason, Caroline Atherton 456 

Miles, Sarah Elizabeth 232 

Newell, William 177 

Norton, Andrews 46 

Osgood, George 383 

Palfrey, Sara Hammond 501 

Parker, Theodore 294 

Peabody, Oliver W. B 152 

Peabody, William B. 137 

Pierpont, John 28 

Pray, Lewis Glover 81 

Richardson, James, Jr 376 

Robbins, Chandler 303 

Robbins, Samuel Dowse 323 

Sears, Edmund Hamilton 305 

Sprague, Charles 64 

St. John, A. R 189 

Sumner, Samuel Barrett 130 



ALPHABETICAL INDEX OF AUTHORS. 541 

PAGE 

Very, Jones 335 

Very, Lydia L. A : 466 

Very, Washington 373 

Ware, Henry, Jr 103 

Waterston, Anna C. L 406 

Water ston, Robert Cassie 390 

Weidemeyer, John W 424 

Weiss, John 419 

Whitney, Frederick Augustus 331 

Willard, Samuel 14 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 



PAGE 

Abide not in the realm of dreams 321 

Above the storms and thunder jars 310 

A cloud flits o'er the youthful brow 80 

Again, as evening's shadow falls 436 

A holy air is breathing round 313 

Ah ! this life is full of danger 170 

Alas ! how swift the moments fly 13 

All- glorious Lord of heaven and earth 26 

All hail the smiling rays 16 

All is of God ! If he but wave his hand 228 

All Nature's works His praise declare 106 

All praise to Him of Nazareth 122 

All-seeing One ! whose presence fills 332 

All that in this wide world we see 120 

All the days of my life, be they many or few 1S6 

Almighty Father ! condescend 64 

Almighty Father ! thou didst frame 508 

Almighty Power, whose word and will sustain 191 

Along Time's river, — like a soul unborn 503 

A memory of vanished dreams 422 

A mighty fortress is our God 214 

And when the Ancient Mariner shall see 204 

Another day its course hath run 31 

Another year, another year 52 

Around the throne of God 107 

Around thine altar, Lord, this day 84 

Around thy forest shrine 269 

As from these hallowed scenes we go 385 

A shadow steals across the sun 377 

A single star how bright ■ . * 211 

A sleepless night ; the rain pours fast 471 

As through the pathless fields of air 58 

As up to heaven our eyes we raise 264 



544 INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 

PAGE 

As wandering o'er life's weary way 193 

A sweet and blessed strain they swell 279 

At cool of day, with God I walk 465 

At dead of night a south-west breeze 417 

Attend, all ye faithful, your Leader's command 505 

At thy call, O Voice divine 367 

Author of all my blessings here 267 

A voice by Jordan's shore 429 

A voice from the sea to the mountains 366 

A wail from beyond the desert 100 

Awake, O church ! thy strength put on 63 

Away, O Fame ! Thy star has set 475 

A wondrous star our pioneer 420 

Ay, look around ; but thou mayst not behold 525 

Bearing the Saviour's story 527 

Because I wear the swaddling-bands of Time 501 

Before thee, Lord, a servant bows 474 

Begirt with Avood-crowned hills 412 

Behold, — but motes of animated dust 348 

Behold — not him we knew 258 

Behold the western evening light 146 

Beneath the shadow of the cross 430 

Beneath thine hammer, Lord, I lie 207 

Beneath thy trees to-day we met 421 

Black the heaven is overcast 145 

Blest spirit of my life, oh, stay 423 

Break forth in song, ye trees 37 

Brook said to stream : Ah me ! swallowed so suddenly .... 373 

Brother, hast thou wandered far 288 

Build not on to-morrow 413 

Calm on the listening ear of night 306 

Cast thy bread upon the waters 97 

Cease, my heart, to dread the morrow 17 

Changing, fading, falling, flying 178 

Children of light, awake 246 

Christ hath arisen 213 

Christ to the young man said : " Yet one thing more " 226 

Christ will gather in his own 535 

City of God, how broad and far 452 

Come, let us away 314 

Come suddenly, O Lord, or slowly come 346 

Come to me, O ye children 228 

Come up ! the moon is rising fast 442 

Come when the leaves are greenest 82 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 545 

PAGE 

Deal gently with us, Lord 506 

Dear eyes that never looked reproach 533 

Dear Friend ! whose presence in the house 291 

Dear Jesus, were thy spirit now on earth 300 

Dear Saviour, in my hour of pride 507 

Dear ties of mutual succor bind 130 

Deem not that they are blest alone 117 

Devoutly read, and then all books will edify thee 373 

Down toward the twilight drifting 327 

Dry, dry up those tears 83 

Earth rolls round from day to night 365 

Entranced among the rocks and trees 352 

Eternal Father, at whose word 415 

Eternal Father, throned above 270 

Eternal Ruler of the ceaseless round 517 

Fades from the west the farewell light 320 

Faint not, poor traveller, though thy way 51 

Farewell, farewell, thou fostering earth 198 

Farewell, ye walls ! though in your sacred square 98 

Far off from God, O thou my soul 86 

Father, accept these sacred walls 136 

Father, at this calm hour 490 

Father ! before I close mine eyes 268 

Father ! beneath thy chastening stroke 368 

Father, beneath thy sheltering wing 319 

Father, direct my ways 234 

Father, enthroned above 272 

Father in heaven, to thee my heart 166 

Father, in thy mysterious presence kneeling 446 

Father, I see my wrong 131 

Father ! I thank thee for thy care 149 

Father ! I wait thy word. The sun doth stand 336 

Father, I will not ask for wealth or fame 301 

Father of world and soul 367 

Father, there is no change to live with thee 337 

Father, thy gentle chastisement 112 

Father, thy mercies never fail 24 

Father ! thy rich spirit shed 75 

Father, thy servant waits to do thy will 322 

Father ! thy wonders do not singly stand 337 

Father, to thee alone 236 

Father ! when gathered round thy throne 267 

Father, whose sheep in pastures fair 509 

Feeble, helpless, how shall I 168 

35 



546 INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 

PAGE 

Flowers for the early dead 275 

For all the trials of my earlier day 302 

For all thy gifts we praise thee, Lord 289 

Forget not the Dead, who have loved, who have left us ... . 439 

Forms beloved, whose memory haunts me 426 

For us God's only Son 140 

Freemen, we our chartered rights 25 

From Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire 183 

From thee, O God, our spirits come 27 

From Zion's holy hill there rose 382 

Gay, guiltless pair 71 

Genius for us has wrought 405 

Give me, my God, to feel thee in my joy 292 

Give me, O Lord, a thankful heart 135 

Glorious that Faith which prompts to deeds of love 394 

Glory to God 240 

Glory to God, and peace on earth 62 

God bless our Fathers' Land 259 

God bless our native land • . . . . 370 

God cannot die 528 

God of the earnest heart 446 

God of the earth's extended plains . 149 

God of the morning and the night 351 

God of the soul ! oh, help us to revere 393 

God of wisdom, God of might 65 

God ploughed one day with an earthquake 510 

God, thou art good ! each perfumed flower 60 

God, who dwellest everywhere 58 

Go forth ! the sky is blue above 440 

Go forth to life, O child of earth 430 

Golden gleams of noonday fell 355 

Good-night ! good-night ! our song is said 176 

Go, with a manly heart 440 

Grant me, Lord, some precious token 19 

Great God, in heaven above 399 

Great God, the followers of thy Son 105 

Great God ! within these temple gates 359 

Great is the earth, O God ■ . . . 529 

Great Lord of all ! our Father, God 364 

Great Source of Good, our God and Friend 392 

Guest from a holier world 489 

Hail, Pilgrim Fathers of our race 6 

Hail to the Sabbath day 242 

Hallowed for ever be that twilight hour 498 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 547 

PAGE 

Happy the man, who, sauntering on his way 425 

Happy the unrepining poor 23 

Hark ! the gentle Shepherd's voice 202 

Has life no charm for thee 265 

Hath not thy heart within thee burned 248 

Have faith in man, thy brother 379 

He has gone to his God, he has gone to his home 52 

He hides within the lily 514 

He made the sun, and gave him light ..139 

Here, after Jacob parted from his brother 286 

Here in a world of doubt 160 

Here, in the broken bread 169 

He was not what the world counts rich 438 

He who in mercy makes the sun to shine 181 

Hither, bright angels, wing your flight 438 

Holy Son of God most high 244 

Holy Spirit, Fire divine 216 

Holy Spirit, Truth divine 432 

Home! home! as we* kneel at thy time-hallowed shrine .... 263 

Hosanna unto David's Son 351 

How come the dead ? we anxious ask 345 

How fast the rapid hours retire 142 

How glad the tone when summer's sun 382 

How good it is in love and peace to dwell 497 

How long, O Lord ! how long 235 

How shall I know thee in the sphere which keeps ...... 125 

How sweet, dear Lord, to rest 486 

How sweetly from the western sky 297 

How sweet to be allowed to pray 60 

How sweet upon this sacred day 55 

Ho ! ye that rest beneath the rock 309 

Humanity is found kneeling in every zone -. . 373 

Hunger no more, O starving ones of earth 468 

I aim to follow thee 134 

I bless thee, Lord, for sorrows sent 450 

I cannot make him dead 43 

I dare not echo those who say 463 

I feel within a want 167 

If ever angel's wing 274 

I gazed upon thy face, — and beating life 338 

I have done at length with dreaming 456 

I hear again my childhood's songs 345 

I heard the trailing garments of the Night 218 

I hear it often in the dark 516 

I hold the laws of truth, so far as understood 475 



54§ INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 

PAGE 

I know not whither I go ; I came, I know not whence 372 

I like that ancient Saxon phrase which calls 222 

I look to thee in every need 431 

I look upon thy features, honored friend 182 

In ages past, majestic prophets came 393 

In costly fane, the pride of art 22 

In darker days and nights of storm 298 

In darkest hours I hear a voice 396 

In deep affliction, Lord, I lie 18 

In each breeze that wanders free 395 

Infinite Spirit ! who art round us ever 285 

In life's horizon rose a star . 407 

In passing through the harvest field 534 

In pleasant lands have fallen the lines 25 

In the beauty of holiness worship the Lord 59 

In the golden summer morning 485 

In the morning I will raise 161 

In this glad hour, when children meet m 

In this green lane we often walked . 414 

Into the wilderness was Hagar driven 201 

Into what land of harvests, what plantations 231 

I pray, with meek hands on my breast 460 

I saw on earth another light 340 

I saw the mountain oak with towering form 185 

I say to every man I meet 37 1 

I see it ever there above my head 500 

I sin whenever I pursue 139 

I sit within my room, and joy to find 339 

I stand between the Future and the Past 403 

Is there a lone and dreary hour 78 

Is there a secret, hidden place 271 

It came upon the midnight clear 308 

I think if he who spake that blessed word 523 

It is the gentle evening hour 56 

I would my work were better done . . 158 

Jehovah, at thine awful throne 175 

Jesus has lived ! and we would bring 472 

Jesus said with soothing voice 133 

Jesus, there is no dearer name than thine 298 

Lamb of God's fold ! 'tis well with thee 369 

Let children learn the mighty deeds 7 

Life is a sea ; like ships we meet 366 

Life of Ages, richly poured 451 

Lift your glad voices in triumph on high 105 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 549 

PAGE 

Like Israel's hosts to exile driven in 

Lo ! another offering 210 

Look around thee ! say how long 394 

Lord, in whose might the Saviour trod 243 

Lord of all being ! throned afar 257 

Lord of all, we bow before thee .;....- 398 

Lord of the worlds below 2 

Lord, once our faith in man no fear could move 447 

Lord, send us forth among thy fields to work 499 

Lord, who ordainest for mankind . 121 

Lo ! the day of rest declineth 305 

Lo ! they come from east and west 17 

Love for all, and can it be 433 

Loving Father, heavenly King 137 

Man in his might and worldly skill 190 

'Mid the flower-wreathed tombs I stand 483 

Mighty One, before whose face 115 

My Father, take my hand, for I am prone 330 

My God, by thy directing power 148 

My God, I thank thee ; may no thought 47 

My God once mixed a harsh cup, for me to drink from it ... . 470 

My God, my Father, and my Friend 427 

Music's the language of cherubs in glory 203 

Mute in the studio the artist stands 330 

Never, my heart, wilt thou grow old 157 

New heavens, new earth, where are ye ? Evermore 293 

Nigh, in that hour of secret grief 264 

No human eyes thy face may see 480 

No night, no night ! O blessed dawn 461 

No Sabbath hush, to-day, has led 409 

Not all the beauties of this joyous earth 403 

Not amid pleasure's giddy throng 273 

Not by vast piles of sculptured stone, uprearing 378 

Not charity we ask 256 

Not within palace-halls 277 

Not yet : — along the purpling sky 458 

Now bend we low, and ask our fathers' God 474 

Now on land and sea descending 436 

No words of labored prayer I know 158 

Now to the God to whom all might 32 

O Brother, who for us didst meekly wear 301 

O deem not that earth's crowning bliss 3T7 

O fair-haired Northern hero 409 



55° INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 

PAGB 

O Father, as in days of old 493 

O Father, kindly deign to hear 472 

O Father of the living Christ 188 

Of idle hopes and fancies wild 156 

Of old, on priest and prophet came 334 

O for a prophet's fire 168 

O friend, endeared to heart and mind 362 

Oft have I walked these woodland paths 495 

O gift of God ! O perfect day 229 

O God, accept the sacred hour 74 

O God, beneath this Greenwood shade 44 

O God, in thy autumnal skies 360 

O God, I thank thee that the night 30 

O God of light and love 396 

O God, mine eyes and ears unseal 417 

O God, my agony is great 418 

O God, thy children gathered here 431 

O God, to thine all-seeing ken 101 

O God, who dwellest in the surging sea 526 

O God, whose dread and dazzling brow 118 

O God, whose presence glows in all 88 

O, happiest he, whose riper years retain 442 

O heart of all the shining day . 515 

Oh, holy is the golden light 416 

Oh, how far are we below Him 170 

Oh, my tried soul, be patient ! roughest rinds 459 

Oh, not for thee we weep ; we weep . . • 41 

O holy Mother ! had no angel's voice 466 

Oh, slow to smite and swift to spare 129 

Oh, stay thy tears ; for they are blest 48 

Oh, think not that my eyes are dry 492 

Oh, .trust not, youth, to the visions fair 379 

Oh, when the hours of life are past 14* 

Oh, who that has gazed, in the stillness of even 152 

O Israel ! at the trumpet turn 350 

Old mountains ! dim and gray ye rise 349 

O little feet, that such long years 230 

O Lord, deliver, when the unclouded ray 237 

O Lord of Hosts, Almighty King 260 

O Lord of life, and truth, and grace 90 

O Lord of life ! to thee we pray 391 

O Lord, our God, when storm and flame 478 

O Lord, the riches of thy grace 415 

O Lord, thy all -discerning eyes 11 

O Love Divine, that stooped to share 257 

O maiden, at the dawn of day 385 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 551 

PAGE 

O mingle with the widow's tears 166 

Once more on balmy wings 358 

One bright flower has drooped and faded 399 

One Father, God, we own 99 

One holy church of God appears 434 

One little bud adorned my bower 69 

One prayer, with never-ceasing sound 203 

One universal strain of praise 274 

Only ten miles from the city 512 

O North, with all thy vales of green 122 

Onward and upward, be the motto mine 538 

Onward, onward, though the region 448 

Open your gates, O grave 536 

Oppression shall not always reign 113 

O Saviour, whose immortal word 91 

O shall our hearts that Friend forsake 200 

O still in accents, sweet and strong 435 

O suffering Friend of human kind 245 

O Thou, at whose dread name we bend 68 

O Thou, by God ordained to lead the race 293 

O Thou Eternal One, may I commune 299 

O Thou great Friend to all the sons of men 300 

O Thou, to whom, in ancient time 33 

O Thou, who art above all height 33 

O Thou, who changest not though centuries roll 327 

O Thou, who on thy chosen Son no 

O Thou, whose boundless power and love 418 

O Thou, whose love can ne'er forget 116 

O Thou, whose spirit Moses did inspire 411 

O Thou, whose Spirit o'er the deep 506 

Our Father, here again we raise 172 

Our Father, Nature's God 154 

Our fathers, Lord, to seek a spot 66 

Our Father, to thy love we owe „,..'.. 117 

Our Father, we approach thy board 43 

Our life is but a span 241 

Our life is like a ship that sails some day 518 

Our pilgrim brethren dwelling far . . 62 

Our wisest wisdom's chosen gate 527 



Parent of souls ! all tribes depend 154 

Peace, peace on earth ! the heart of man for ever 434 

Praise for the glorious light 282 

Praise to God ! oh, let us raise ...-..' 57 

Pray, mother, for thy prayer may keep 342 



55 2 INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 

PAGF 

Rejoice, and be exceeding glad 527 

Rejoice, O weary soul 357 

" Remember me," the Saviour said . 92 

Richly, O richly, have I been 163 

Sad souls, that harbor fears and woes 502 

Saint Augustine ! well hast thou said 226 

Saviour, when the loved depart 496 

Saviour, when thy bread we break 326 

See ! the golden morning rises 199 

See the streaks of daylight swim 145 

" Serve God and be cheerful." The motto 187 

Sleep on, sleep on, beneath the sod 374 

Slowly by thy hand unfurled 162 

Sons of renowned sires 5 

So soft, so white, so cold 313 

So the two voices, to the dreamer's thought 179 

Sovereign and transforming Grace 206 

Spirit of Wisdom and of Power 31 

Spirits of the mighty dead 3^6 

Still will we trust, though earth seem dark and dreary 316 

Strew all their graves with flowers 343 

Strong-souled Reformer, whose far-seeing faith 453 

Suppliant, lo ! thy children bend 173 

Sure, to the mansions of the blest 12 

" Take, and eat," the Saviour said 247 

Take them, O Death ! and bear away 225 

Tell me not, in mournful numbers 219 

That one so rich in promise . 165 

That this shall be a better year 524 

The break of morn and May 361 

The bud will soon become a flower 340 

The Christmas Tree ! The Christmas Tree 197 

The Cross, the symbol once of crime 87 

The day is cold and dark and dreary 222 

The dying year ! the dying year 143 

The earth, all light and loveliness 233 

The everlasting mountains stand 495 

The flower that opened to the light 386 

The glorious God who reigns on high 79 

The God in whom I ever trust 138 

The hallowed morn returns again 266 

The harp of the minstrel with melody rings 45 

The homeless winds that wander o'er the land 492 

The humble pile our fathers raised 296 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 553 

PAGE 

Their brows should wear a holy light 317 

The journey is too great for thee 95 

The land our fathers left to us 481 

The Lord is in his Holy Place 513 

The midnight winds are sounding loud 144 

The minutes have their trusts as they go by 341 

The moon is up : how calm and slow 147 

The morning breaks upon my eyes 464 

The mountains wild and valleys fair 388 

The old red rock tempts the salt sea-wave 532 

Theories which thousands cherish 392 

The past is dark with sin and shame 482 

The Pilgrim Fathers, — where are they 34 

The poor ye always have with you 354 

The rain is o'er, — how dense and bright 49 

There are, thank Heaven, beneath this fitful dome 443 

There are they who have left their sweet home 94 

There cometh o'er the spirit 375 

There is a cable stretched from earth to heaven 468 

There is a Reaper, whose name is Death 220 

There is no flock, however watched and tended 224 

There's a light gone out of the sunshine 380 

There was a glory in my house 521 

The Sabbath bells ring out upon the air 458 

The snow has come ; o'er field and hill 375 

The soul does its own life to Nature give 402 

The sun is set, the silver moon 537 

The sun is still for ever sounding 212 

The veil has dropped ; her spirit now 404 

The waves of light are drifting from off the heavenly shore . . . 329 

The whispering sea, the thundering surf 412 

The whole broad earth is beautiful 81 

The Will Divine that woke a waiting time 453 

The winds are hushed ; the peaceful morn 42 

The worlds that shine above us nightly 471 

They are all gone but one • 41 

The year, as now it dies away 387 

They had fed on his word, and they drank in his smile 184 

They passed away from sight and hand 102 

This child we dedicate to thee 73 

This cottage-door, this gentle gale 442 

This day let grateful praise ascend 280 

This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign 255 

This world is bright and fair, we know 494 

Thou art my morning, God of light 325 



554 INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 

PAGE 

Thou art, O God ! my East. In theel dawned 325 

Thou art our Master ! thou of God the Son 324 

Thou lofty One ! whose name is Love 67 

Thou Lord of hosts, whose guiding hand 458 

Thou sparkling bowl ! thou sparkling bowl 39 

Thou unrelenting Past 124 

Thou wert beside us on our daily way 467 

Thou who didst aid our sires to raise 401 

Thou, who didst stoop below 232 

Thou who hast called our being here 443 

Thou whose glad summer yields 449 

Thou whose unmeasured temple stands 119 

Through Baca's vale my way is cast 328 

Through crooked paths thou hast conducted me 302 

Through haughty realms that low and wasted lie 349 

'Tis a new life ; — thoughts move not as they did 339 

'Tis not the copious rains alone 342 

'Tis sweet, when life's last work is done 383 

'Tis the youth in all my motion 424 

'Tis winter now ; the fallen snow . . . 435 

To him who children blessed 289 

Toiling through the livelong night 240 

To light that shines in stars and souls 449 

To prayer, to prayer ; — for the morning breaks 108 

To preach Good Tidings ! this the call 520 

To Thee, beneath whose eye 38 

To Thee, Great Spirit, by whose will 333 

To thee, O God in heaven .' 288 

To thee, O God ! whose guiding hand 8 

To thine eternal arms, O God 482 

To veil thy truth by darkening or by hiding 479 

Turn to the stars of heaven thine eyes 1 1 

'Twas in the East, the mystic East 209 

'Twas the day when God's Anointed 208 

Two pilgrims to the holy land 439 

Underneath the sod, low lying 441 

Under the snow the violets are budding 488 

Wake, church of freedom, wake ! 'tis day . 499 

We are but two, — the others sleep 70 

We ask not that our path be always bright 318 

We bless thee for this sacred day 78 

We come, a pilgrim band, to kneel 192 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 555 

PAGE 

We come in childhood's innocence . . 174 

We did not part as others part 50 

We gather to the sacred board 249 

Welcome, servant of the Lord 180 

Welcome! thou blessed spot 276 

Welcome, ye deep and silent shades 18 

We meditate the day 89 

We rear not a temple, like Judah's of old 112 

Were half the power that fills the world with terror 223 

We sing thy mercy, God of love 75 

What do you say to God, little bird 531 

Whatever dims thy sense of truth 281 

What is this that stirs within 164 

What myriads throng in proud array - 69 

What though they boast of fairer lands 490 

When all things thou hast made 134 

When April's warmth unlocks the clod 287 

When brighter suns and milder skies 142 

When, driven by oppression's rod 196 

When from their sight the Saviour went 344 

When God upheaved the pillared earth 85 

When I am weak, I'm strong 92 

When in silence, o'er the deep 281 

When Israel's host, in days of old 400 

When Jesus trod by thy blue sea 157 

When our purest delights are nipt in the blossom 57 

When the blind suppliant in the way 129 

When the hours of day are numbered 221 

When this song of praise shall cease 120 

When thy Son, O God, was sleeping 36 

Where ancient forests round us spread 54 

Where for a thousand miles 290 

Where the dark sea of Egypt throws 250 

While round thy throne, O God, we bend 172 

While thus thy throne of grace we seek , 304 

Who is the shepherd, sent to lead 254 

Who is thy neighbor ? He whom thou 151 

Why should such sorrow come, I asked, to thee 252 

Why shun, my soul, with downcast, cowed behavior 503 

Wilt Thou not visit me 338 

Within the shadow of his cross we stand 473 

Within this lowly grave a conqueror lies 127 

With sandals gemmed with morning dew 328 

With thankful hearts, O God, we come 477 

Work of a hand whose graver cut • 409 



556 INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 

PAGE 

Year passeth after year, O Lord, our God . 245 

Ye sacred walls, — blest Freedom's shrine 444 

Yes, Holy One, thou the good Shepherd art 302 

Yes ! there were some among thy hearers, Lord 246 

Yes, to the last command 74 

You strove in vain with cunning words 491 

Youth and its vernal bloom have fled 20 



RD-17 



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